Hope is a waking dream.

  -Aristotle

  Tristan threw her hands up in exasperation. “Why don’t we just call the cops?” She asked. “He hasn’t taken our phones.” Jennifer laughed at that. “Just what this situation needs. More angry dudes with guns.” The attorney mused. Tristan was starting to understand that Jennifer just liked to argue. “You need an ambulance either way.” She pointed out. Jennifer weakly grinned at her. “Eh, I think I’ll bounce back.” She joked. Tristan took a second to calm her frustration at the sheer bullheaded stubbornness that had been on display all night. She decided to quit engaging and just take action.

  Tristan pulled out her phone to call the cops but found that it was dead. “Oh, come on.” She accidentally said out loud. Jennifer perked up at that. “What?” She asked. Oh, here we go. Tristan thought. “My phone’s dead.” She admitted. “Oh my god, are you kidding?” Jennifer snapped. “It’s late in the day. I don’t normally need it at work.” Tristan retorted.

  “How do you not make sure that your phone is charged before work?”

  “Come on, it’s late in the day-”

  “You work alone at night in a big building-”

  “I have another job. Sorry I can’t keep track of-”

  “What if something happened? I mean, something did happen and you-”

  “Okay, fuck! I get it!” Tristan exclaimed, just trying to shut her up. “Why don’t we try your phone?” Jennifer nodded and reached into her pocket for her phone. “Well, the good news is that I keep my phone charged.” She said, sounding way too proud of herself. She pulled out her device and quickly found that it was drenched in blood and completely inoperable. This seemed to short-circuit her brain for a second. “Well shit.” Jennifer said. “That’s not my fault.” Tristan was no longer surprised by her inability to be wrong. She still found herself sighing, though. “Do you have a landline?” She asked. Jennifer snapped in agreement, her fingers slipping on the blood. “Yeah… yeah, that should work.” She said. “On the desk.”

  Tristan stood up and moved to the desk. She picked up the handheld receiver on the desk phone and tried dialing 911. All she heard was the beep beep beep of a dead line. “Nothing. That’s weird.” She said. Jennifer settled in and sighed. “The internet’s gotta be down.” She said. “Does it even work like that?” Tristan asked. “I don’t fucking know.” Jennifer replied, not even lifting her head. It seemed she was very quickly coming to terms with her predicament. “What if…” Tristan started, tentatively. “What if he’s telling the truth?” Jennifer did raise her head at that. “Zombies?” She scoffed. “You don’t seriously buy that, do you?” Tristan shrugged. “I mean, stranger things have happened.” She said. Jennifer forced a very fake laugh. “No, they haven’t. They literally have not. Are you stupid?” She asked. “That would 100% be the strangest thing that has ever happened in my lifetime.” Tristan tried her best to ignore the insults. “I’m just saying, we can’t rule anything out yet.” She said. Jennifer leaned back again. She was white as a sheet at this point. “Occam’s Razor, Tristan.” She said. Tristan stared at the woman. Jennifer’s conclusion required so many coincidences to be true. How was that the simplest explanation? Not that him telling the truth was any more plausible, but they had to look at it from every angle. “Oh, sorry.” Jennifer said. “Occam’s Razor is-” Tristan cut her off. “I know what it is.” She said, pointedly.

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  Jennifer didn’t seem to notice that she was pissing Tristan off at all. “Oh, good.” She said. “So, you’re following.” Tristan began to say something about how Jennifer hadn’t listened to anyone else all night, but she was cut off by the ding of the elevator arriving on their floor.

  The two women looked at each other.

  Tristan scrambled towards the front to see who it was. Maybe George just decided to leave. Wouldn’t that be great? “Who is it?” Jennifer demanded in a harsh whisper. Tristan crouched in front of the door, peaking through the crack at the elevator in the hallway. “It’s the security guard, Sharon.” She replied. “It looks like she’s here on her rounds.” Tristan didn’t know if she was relieved or even more terrified. On one hand, someone with a weapon of their own had potentially come to their rescue. On the other, this was a new, probably dangerous variable to the situation. She decided that she would just wait it out and let the security guard find George herself.

  Sharon stepped into the hallway cautiously, her head on a swivel and her hand resting on the taser on her belt. Her eyes zeroed in on the doorway that Tristan was crouched in. Tristan prayed that she couldn’t see her.

  “Tristan, is that you?” The security guard called. Shit shit shit. Tristan thought. She froze in panic, unsure of how to proceed. “You know I can see your silhouette through the glass, right?” Sharon said. Well, fuck. Tristan thought. “Uh, yeah. It’s me.” She responded. “I’m gonna need you to explain what the hell is going on before I call the cops.” The guard called, approaching the door.

  Across the hallway, Tristan saw George poke his head out and study the guard. He made eye-contact with Tristan and made a silent “shush” gesture. A chill ran down Tristan’s spine as she stood. Terrified. She decided. I am way more terrified than I was. She had to think, and she had to think fast. She opened the door just enough to poke her head through and greet Sharon. “Oh, we’re all good up-” The guard pushed through the door, letting herself in. Tristan backed up nervously.

  “Okay, what happened to the window downst-” Sharon cut herself off mid-sentence as she saw Jennifer. “Holy shit. What happened to you?” The guard took a step back from both women, the button already undone on the holster for her taser. It’s not like Tristan could blame her; the room had started to smell heavily of iron with how much blood had now pooled under Jennifer. Tristan’s mind raced as she tried to figure out how best to avoid more bloodshed. She found herself speaking before her mind had time to catch up. “Oh, the window. Yeah.” She began. “Jennifer was leaving for the day, and she accidentally fell into it. It looks worse than it is, I think.” Tristan was not happy with that explanation, but she had to stick to it now. Jennifer smiled weakly. “You know me, I’m a real klutz.” She said. Sharon looked at the two of them skeptically. “We need to get her an ambulance.” She said, a hint of accusation in her tone. “Our phones aren’t working.” Tristan said. “Somebody bled on mine.” Jennifer added, unhelpfully.

  “Let me try. You two stay here.” Sharon said. She pulled the door open, her eyes lingering on the two women. Tristan caught a flash of George passing by the door behind Sharon. She had to stop her. She had to keep her safe. “Wait!” Tristan exclaimed. The guard stopped in the doorway. Tristan continued, “Have you seen anything… weird, tonight?” Sharon sighed with exasperation. “You mean besides the destroyed tempered glass door downstairs and the fucking Tarantino scene in front of me?” She asked. Tristan found herself at a loss for words. “No no no.” Jennifer said. “Have you been attacked by any flesh-eating zombies?” Sharon let out a derisive chuckle. “Are you two on something?” She asked. Jennifer sighed. “No, but George probably is.” She quipped. “Who’s George?” The guard asked.

  Tristan never heard the gunshot. She just felt the splash of warmth as Sharon’s brains splattered across her face.