The Uninsured

Mandy sat at her desk, typing noisily on her keyboard. So far it had been a very normal Wednesday, and her mind had wandered off an hour ago. Data-entry gigs were great for zoning out, and her ADHD-brain evidently had places to be. That's why it took her several seconds to notice someone standing at the entrance of her cubicle, snapping their fingers to get her attention.

"Sorry, Denny," said Mandy, "I was concentrating really hard. You know how it is." Her sarcasm was so subtle, it was lost on her coworker.

"Oh, I totally understand," Denny replied, sincerely. "I'm the same way when I get in the zone. You know what they used to call me back when I worked at State Farm?" He took a long sip from the paper cup in his hand, waiting for Mandy to ask.

She gave it a moment, continuing to type, but more slowly and quietly. "What did they call you?"

"Job Zombie!" He guffawed.

Mandy intended to laugh politely, but the best her face could give him was a smirk and a loud exhalation. "Nice. Uh... did you need something?"

“Me? No, not at all.” Denny shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “I was just passing by and thought I’d ask if you needed a hand.” He looked around the cube as if surveying a factory floor. Mandy wondered if he saw something she couldn’t in the nearly-empty not-quite-a-room. She didn’t have to guess about his motive, however, and thought she might minimize her chances of hearing the whole spiel again if she spoke first.

“Trying to claw back that Employee of the Month title? I didn’t know I was on the list of butts to kiss.” There was no reply. Mandy turned her head to look at Denny, but he was gone. Weird, she thought to herself, but he is a weird guy.

She resumed typing at full speed and full volume, but was swiftly interrupted by the sound of running footsteps. Two women scrambled clumsily past Mandy's cube, one hissing, "go, go go!" Mandy stopped and listened. There was a stifled chaos in the room. Whispering, thudding, running sounds, all half-eaten by the white noise machine that dampened the atmosphere of the office.

Mandy stood. She intended to peek around the cube walls, ascertain the situation, then probably follow the others to safety. As she took her first step, Mandy noticed something at the entrance to her cube. It appeared to be a hand grasping at the upper corner of the wall. She watched in stunned silence as the fingers found their grip and pulled, hauling the rest of the body into view.

At one time, it had been a man. Mandy arrived at that assumption by the way the body was dressed in its Sunday-best. The suit held the mass of tissue in the rough shape of a person. Shirt sleeves and trouser legs clung wetly to whatever was underneath. What flesh she could see was dark, and some was clearly missing. Mandy noticed in a brief glance that the face was sunken-in and the lower jaw was gone entirely. She tried not to look again.

Rather than fight or flight, Mandy's brain had chosen to freeze. As the creature shuffled closer, she kept her eyes fixed on her desk. She willed herself to keep breathing and to quit thinking. If she had tried to understand the smell, it would have completely overpowered her. After what felt like minutes, a mottled hand, stiffly balled into a fist, came into view beneath her gaze. The fingers creaked and snapped open with a groan of effort from the body. A very dirty and crumpled piece of paper dropped from the hand.

The visitor retreated slightly, but didn't leave. Mandy worked up the courage to steal another glance at its face. There were no eyes, but she felt as though it was staring at her expectantly.

She gingerly picked up the paper and opened it, smoothing it out against the desk as best as she could. The shock of recognition forced a smile out of her. It was the signature page of a form issued by her company.

Mandy nodded rigidly as she remembered how to speak. "Just... one second while I pull this up, sir." This had gone far beyond "weird," but of all the things a zombie could have dropped on her desk, paperwork was something she could handle.

The policy number on the form pulled up a profile for a Mr. John Ashford. Mr. Ashford had purchased an Accidental Death and Dismemberment policy within the last year. Two months ago, a claim was submitted after Mr. Ashford had been the victim of an industrial accident. (The details of the accident were probably spelled out in the documents, but now didn't seem like the time to sit down for a read.) However, the claim had been denied because a beneficiary had never been named. Some notes indicated the matter was now stuck in some legal limbo until they could figure out how to issue a refund on the policy.

Mandy turned to the paper on the desk. It was grimy, but she could see that it was a Change of Beneficiary form. Mr. Ashford had named his wife and daughter and included their information. The page was signed, and it was dated about a week before the claim was submitted. She bit her lip and thought for a minute. There was no way she could explain this to legal, let alone her boss. "I'd really like to help, Mr. Ashford, but I don't think we can --"

He growled and lunged at the desk. Mandy leapt back against the cube wall with a small shriek and closed her eyes. When seconds passed and nothing bad had happened to her, she looked to the desk again. Mr. Ashford was leaning over the paper, trying to scrape off more of the dirt. He didn't seem to have the strength or dexterity for the task, and he groaned with frustration.

Mandy crept forward. "May I?" She chipped away at some dried mud where Mr. Ashford had been clawing. It took a little work, but she could definitely make out the impression of a notary's seal in the paper. She looked up at him again. The fragile body desperately heaved with the effort to stay upright. Screw it, she thought, that's legal enough. Mandy put on her customer-service-voice.

"Let me see what I can do. Please, have a seat."

The man fumbled with the cheap office chair that sat across the desk from Mandy. The flimsy seat was present out of necessity as much as courtesy. As the man's joints clicked and creaked, trying to remember how to sit down, Mandy thought that the chair had never seemed less convenient in its life.

It took some creativity to scan the document into the computer in a readable state, but she did it. After a few minutes of clicks and keystrokes, Mandy got the system to accept her authorization to enact the policy. It was probably not something she should have been able to do without a manager, but honestly, they didn't pay her enough to care.

"Perfect," she said, turning back to Mr. Ashford. "You'll need to --" Mandy stopped herself, thinking better of sending this guy to the claims department in person. "Actually, I'll make a quick call. Would you mind waiting a moment?"

Mandy clicked on a name. She listened to the tinny ringtone coming through her headset. It went on and on, too long. Mandy's mouth went dry. Claims was on the floor below this one. Had someone raised the alarm down there? Did they evacuate? Is evacuation even the move, in-case-of-zombie?

The ringing stopped and was replaced by silence. "Claire...?"

"Mandy! Jesus. What's going on up there? People are bursting in here hysterical --"

"Claire, I'm... with a client." Well, that wasn't untrue. "Could you resubmit a claim for me?"

Mandy could practically hear the dumbfounded expression on Claire's face. "I guess so," was all she managed to reply.

Mandy pushed the info through to Claire's station. "Got it?"

"Yeah, but --"

"I know. There was some kind of snafu and... look, if the system will let you, can you just do it?"

Claire's microphone was too close to her nose. Mandy listened to her breathe while she worked. "Done."

Mandy's screen showed that new documents had been generated in Mr. Ashford's file. "Thank you."

"Sure, but, hey, do we need to be --"

Mandy hung up and turned to face her client. He was still staring eyelessly at her and sitting absolutely still. "You're all set, Mr. Ashford. A letter will be sent to your beneficiaries' addresses with claim information and next steps."

There was no movement and no sound. The body seemed empty now in a way it wasn't before.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

The figure crumbled wordlessly into a heap, spilling from the cheap chair to the floor. The odor of decay evaporated and was replaced with a dusty smell. Mandy peeked over the desk. The suit that had been holding Mr. Ashford together now seemed to house a pile of dry bones and ash. Allowing her mind to reset to its default state, distracted and full of trivia, Mandy wondered how and why a corpse that had been buried intact and was in active decay would resolve to, basically, cremated remains after being reanimated.

Mandy powered down her computer and gathered her things. She was sure that under the circumstances, nobody would mind if she called it a day a few hours early. There was no sign of movement on the rest of the floor, and the only sound was the thud of her footsteps.

As she approached the elevator, the doors slid open. A gaggle of men spilled into the room, wielding a variety of makeshift weapons cobbled together from whatever they could find in the office. Someone had staplers, one in each hand, raised to eye-level and poised to strike. Another guy fumbled with a folding chair. He seemed to be unsure how best to hold it. Some hefty dude Mandy had never seen before carried an entire plant – a medium-sized artificial tree that was affixed to its heavy decorative pot. Hulk smash, Mandy thought. And at the rear of the pack was Denny, who looked ridiculous with a plastic bowl on his head and a push-broom raised as if he’d just stepped out of a cartoon.

“Perfect timing, Job Zombie,” Mandy nodded to Denny as she stepped into the elevator. “There’s a mess in my cube that’s got ‘Employee of the Month’ written all over it.”

END.