Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Blue Goo

Norman slicked back his unruly shoulder-length hair, catching a glimpse of the original brown color above the fading black dye. He sighed, hair dye wasn’t exactly a high-priority item when it took everything he earned just to make ends meet. He breathed into his hand, trying to see if his breath stunk, and winced.

He shouldn’t have eaten that garlic bread for lunch.

Setting down the brain-filled cooler, he dug around in his loose short pockets. He was glad to be out of those itchy coveralls. His hand came out with a collection of random items and pocket lint.

“Where is it, I know I had a piece,” he growled quietly as he searched through the junk from his pocket until he found the breath mint he had swiped from his boss's desk a few days ago. “Score!”

He popped the mint into his mouth and tried to put on his most charming smile before he picked up the cooler and knocked on Charise’s door.

There was some muffled grumbling followed by footsteps. The walls weren’t exactly soundproof in her building and he was able to easily follow the sound of her footsteps as she walked toward the door. A shadow drew across the peephole for a moment before it disappeared. There was the clack of many locks before the door opened a little bit and Charise stuck her head in the opening.

Norman was instantly disappointed to see Charise had cut her long black hair and dyed it bleach blond. She still looked good with the less than shoulder-length curls but he preferred her dark and brooding look. Not the valley girl one she was now sporting.

Her grumpy demeanor instantly changed when she saw it was him. “Did you bring it, sweetie?”

Norman held up the cooler and the woman squealed in delight before she shut the door and unlatched the chain. The industrial strength chain wasn’t anything like normal door chains, it looked like something you would tow a car with. Norman didn’t recall this level of security the last time he had seen her. Although Norman doubted it would hold up against one of the physical classers for long, sometimes it was the appearance of safety that mattered.

Charise ushered him in from behind the door. His eyes were first drawn to the main room. He quickly understood why she was being as cautious as she was. She had a metric ton of weed in baggies laid out on the table in the next room over. When Norman turned back to ask her what that was all about, he was struck speechless.

Charise not missing the opportunity, took advantage of his stunned silence to snatch the cooler out of his hand. Holding it, she giggled like a little girl.

Norman had to blink a few times while his brain processed the view, her almost total lack of clothing had short-circuited his neurons for a moment. He was only human after all. This nudist version was a new side of Charise that he would very much like to learn more about.

Seeing her only wearing panties, stoked Norman’s desire and he saw it as a good sign.

“So…” Norman said, “where’s my reward?” He leaned toward her, hoping for a kiss, or just maybe her pressing her ample assets up against him.

Charise turned toward him and used her free hand to hold him at arm's length. “Aw, not tonight, sweetie. I got to get this in the planters. Perhaps some other time, help yourself to a bag for your trouble. You can see yourself out, right? Tootles.” She waved to him blithely as she disappeared into another room.

“…Uh, what?” Everything had happened so fast that Norman was left stunned and confused.

He waited to see if she was joking. After Clarise failed to return, Norman realized he had been duped into doing her dirty work for her. It pissed him off but he took a deep breath.

Norman decided it wasn’t worth it, she didn’t deserve the effort it took to be mad at her, instead, he turned toward the table filled with bags ready for sale. He grabbed three bags, one for the hassle of delivering the brain, one for the lost cooler, and one out of spite. When he walked out of the apartment, he heard the door automatically lock behind him followed by muted laughing from deeper inside the apartment. He thought he heard two voices but he chalked that up to mind trying to dredge up the worst possible scenario.

Deciding not to dwell on this situation, he popped his mirror shades back on and started strolling out of the building. He could go home but he decided to meander about the inner town for a bit.

Downtown didn’t look too different now than it did before the apocalypse, except maybe a bit more cluttered. That was until you got toward the edges of downtown and the wall. Those in charge had built it up to create a ‘safe space’. Norman thought the whole thing was a joke when they first started it but people flocked toward the safety of the wall once it was completed.

The wall was a haphazard mishmash of building supplies, concrete, and large vehicles like buses with metal sheets welded to the outside. Even after two years, it hadn’t been completely replaced with a permanent structure. Norman walked past one section that ran between two sturdy buildings. This section had been torn down and rebuilt to resemble a medieval wall, all thick and crenelated, only made from poured concrete instead of stone.

Norman didn’t know the logistics involved in getting that much concrete to build a wall around the entire downtown and was glad he wasn’t in charge of something like that. Besides, he thought the whole thing was a waste of time and effort.

Smoke coiled lazily away from the lit joint hanging from Norman’s mouth as he strolled down the open-air market that had sprung up. The city still had electricity in most places. And all of the buildings downtown, which had been empty, had been reclaimed by the mass of people that fled into the safety of the wall.

There wasn’t nearly enough room for everyone though and the unlucky or poorer merchants were forced to set up shop in the streets or on the sidewalks, wherever they could find space. This meant most of the road was taken up by tents and stalls and made certain streets a maze. Very few streets remained clear for actual traffic.

Norman kind of liked the change, it beat the boring square block layout that was repeated throughout every city in the US.

There were still cars of course but gas was at a premium and electric cars were few and far between even before the apocalypse. Most people had to get around by walking or biking. There were even a few people on horseback if you could believe it.

Norman didn’t understand the drive to get behind a wall for protection. It wasn’t like the alien animals were all that much of a threat. It wasn’t like they were monsters hell-bent on killing everything in sight.

They were just strange and dangerous animals, no different than a bear or wild cat. And most animal attacks had stopped over a year ago, or at least Norman hadn’t heard of anyone being dragged away by a rycor recently.

The rycors were the most dangerous of the new local species. They looked like a horse-sized wolf mixed with a lion. But they were scavengers and opportunists and not true predators. Once they realized humans weren’t easy meals their attacks slowed considerably.

The real threat was from the Jorik, their new neighbor state to the east, but those assholes didn’t venture this far from their lands.

Lost in his own world, Norman wasn’t prepared when someone ran into him. “Oof.” Norman hit the ground hard, his hand smacking the ground and the joint he had been holding flying out of it. Norman watched in horror as it disappeared into a nearby storm drain. When he looked up to see who ran into him he was surprised to see a short blue-skinned asshole with pointy ears.

His brain tried to process what a Jorik was doing downtown when three more strolled over and scoffed with such disdain that Norman felt like shrinking out of sight.

“Watch where you’re walking, human. You sullied my guard’s uniform and honor with your incompetence.”

Norman looked over to the guard in question, the one wiping some blood from his lip with a fancy-looking handkerchief. Norman was pretty sure the guard had seen him and had run into him on purpose.

“Ugh, I feel dirty, my Lord. May we retire so I can burn these clothes and cleanse myself of this lesser’s filth?”

“Yes, let's. We have spent enough time in this place.” The Jorik snapped his fingers and a human came running up.

“Yes, Regent?” the man asked subserviently, trying to bow and not appear to tower over the five-foot alien.

“Deal with this malfeasant while we return to our accommodations.”

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“I will deal with this at once,” the man bowed again as the Joriks started walking away.

The one with the bloody lip spit a wad of blue phlegm onto Norman’s sandaled foot, then gave him a self-satisfied grin before turning away and joining the others

Norman gagged at the wet sensation as the phlegm landed on his bare foot. He was about to wipe it off when his eyes caught the man’s that had come over when the Jorik snapped his finger.

Norman froze at the cold anger in those eyes. He recognized that look all too well.

The unnamed man waited until the group of Jorik was out of sight before he kicked Norman hard.

“Listen here you degenerate piece of shit. If you fucked up our discussions with the elves. I will personally visit you to make the rest of your short life a living hell. Do I make myself clear?”

Norman quickly nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of here before I call a guard over and have them toss you in lockup for a week.”

Norman didn’t need to be told twice as he scrambled to his feet and hurried off while rubbing the side the man had kicked him on with a wince. The man was thankfully not a physical classer going by the force of the kick. If he had been, the man could have easily broken bones. Either way, Norman was going to have a large bruise to go with his sore ass from the fall.

After making sure he was well out of sight, Norman paused. “Fucking elves,” he cursed, using the pejorative term everyone called the Jorik by in private. Mostly due to the pointy ears and the self-entitled attitude they had.

Norman hadn’t had any personal contact with the blue-skinned pricks in over a year. The last time he encountered them was when a group of them attacked the foraging party he had joined to earn some money.

Nobody died during that encounter mostly because the Jorik party that attacked them was only doing it for a laugh. It still cost a few people limbs but Norman had gotten away unharmed. Thankfully, healing magic was a thing, and the people that were wounded eventually recovered when the churches treated them.

It was safe to say nobody really like the Jorik much. The fact that the city's leadership was catering to them in the hopes of getting something in return didn’t surprise Norman. The people that took over the city were not what Norman would call long-term planners. Most likely, these Jorik were just humoring them as part of a sick joke. That seemed to be the blue-skinned bastards' favorite hobby.

By this time his high was wearing off and Norman looked down at the already dried spit on his foot with disgust and a bit of worry. He could feel an itching sensation and tried to rub it off the top of his foot with the bottom of his other sandal but that only caused him to get dirt on his foot. He didn’t want to walk all the way home with this nasty blue goop on his foot, if it was itching now, who knew what it would do to his skin?

There was one option, Norman didn’t like it but he started walking back towards the morgue.

It was late afternoon by the time he arrived at the building and the doors were locked. Norman had a set of keys to get in since his boss required him to come and go at all hours of the day. Norman unlocked the back door and made his way to the shower room. He was almost there when an unmistakable voice called out to him.

“Norman… why don’t you step into my office.”

He was familiar with these words. He fucked up and now bossman was gonna bitch him out. With a tired sigh, Norman turned around and walked into his boss’s office.

Two things told Norman that this wasn’t a normal ass chewing. One, the boss left the door open. Normally he liked to close it and scream his head off at the unfortunate victim. The second was the cheap cardboard box on the desk with items Norman recognized as the few personal belongings he left in his locker at work.

Norman went to take a seat but the boss stopped him. “Don’t bother, you won’t be here long,” the man said happily as he took a seat behind his desk.

“You know, I first installed security cameras when I hired you because I thought you would steal from me and I wanted evidence to turn over to the guard. I wasn’t surprised when I got evidence on day one that you were taking small things here and there but then I saw what else you were up to.”

Norman noticed the mint dish that usually sat atop the boss's desk was nowhere in sight.

“Then you started you’re ‘experiments’ and those got a hell of a chuckle out of me and the other people I showed it to. So I put up with your petty larceny seeing as it was entertaining to watch you fail over and over again.”

Embarrassment crept up Norman’s cheeks as his boss twisted his desk monitor to face Norman. The video on the screen was paused at Norman trying to shove a dead man’s brains into the cooler. One hand on the brain and the other on a bloody saw. The worst was the look of pure concentration on Norman’s face in the paused video.

“I kept you around as a laugh, ignoring your petty theft and subpar work because it was funny to watch you struggle and fail so often. But stealing the remains of the dead is… unacceptable. You know, I never thought I would have to utter those words to someone. Then again you are such a fuck up that I should have figured it was an inevitability. It gives me great pleasure to say this. You’re fired, give me your keys.” The man motioned with his hand.

“Boss, I can exp-“

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear what fucked up thing you needed a human brain for. But let me be perfectly clear about one thing. If I see any undead around here, I’m going straight to the guard. Then you can explain to them. Now get the fuck out of here, your presence makes me sick.” The man shoved the box of items on the desk so hard toward Norman that they spilled half onto the ground.

Norman grabbed the box and shoved what he could back in before hustling out the building with his boss right behind him, belittling him with every step until the door slammed closed behind Norman.

After an embarrassing walk through town with a box that clearly told everyone he had been fired, Norman arrived outside his house.

“At least I still got you.”

Norman walked up the creaky and paint-worn stairs. He looked past the peeling siding, the deteriorating roof, and the slightly tilted porch as he wrenched the stuck screen door open. It scrapped across the deck of the porch along its usual path, leaving a distinctive arc of scrapped wood in its wake.

Norman turned the handle on the inner door and shoved his shoulder against it. The door moved open a few inches and Norman repeated the shoulder shove, getting the door to open the rest of the way. He picked up his meager box of belongings and made his way inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Home sweet home.” Norman tossed the box of belongings from work onto the floor and promptly forgot about it as he flopped onto the broken couch with a sigh.

He dug into his shorts pocket and pulled out the bags he had taken from Charise. He shoved two of them deep into the old couch cushions in case someone broke into his house. Not that anyone would want the old take-out boxes, dirty dishes, or leftover roaches left in the ashtrays or scattered around the living room.

Maybe he was as dirty as his boss. That thought made him depressed and Norman cleared a spot on the coffee table and pulled his bong toward himself. He sniffed the water and winced at the smell but he was too lazy to pour it out and get some fresh stuff. Instead, he packed the bowl, lit it, and inhaled the heady aroma from Charise’s latest blend. The woman may have been a siren in disguise but she did grow the best stuff around.

When it was gone, he relaxed against the back of the couch and let his mind drift away from the shitty day he had. Or that’s what he tried to do. As he crossed his legs, he caught sight of the blue goo still dried to the top of his foot.