9 hours and 47 min...

I don’t think I was settled into my chair before the media launched into a flurry of questions. The cameras swiveled and seemed to lean forward. The lights flashed and flashed and phones and microphones lunged forward.

“Hell...hello,” I said into the microphone. “Please, not all at once,” I said. The microphone squealed and the media giggled together.

“First question,” Cynthia said and gestured to a woman dressed in a cream colored pant suit. Her hair had so much hairspray in it that I was certain that even when she slept it stayed frozen in a permanent bob.

“Do you know the first zombie victim? Patient zero?”

“Patient zero?” I echoed.

“Yes, Jack Anderson. Did you know patient zero? What kind of symptoms did he show that warned you this was a life threatening event? How did you know to use duct tape?”

I swallowed and nothing in my mouth moved. I didn’t know Jack was patient zero. I didn’t know that this whole thing began in my office and in my team. I thought Jack had gotten into contact with someone else. It was one thing for E.O.W. Prep to release a zombie virus in its own building, infect its own employees, but what were the chances of Jack being patient zero? Did they choose him on purpose? Did they infect Jack because of my crisis plan…?

“I knew Jack,” I began. They leaned forward. “He was a great guy. Now, I know everyone says that, right, because they feel like they have too, but really, Jack was funny. He was the kind of guy who didn’t need coffee. You know? Lots of energy.”

“Do you think that his high energy contributed to the mutation of this disease?” someone asked.

“What exactly is your job at E.O.W. Prep Inc?” someone else asked.

“Did you really design the crisis plan?” someone else said.

“How did you think of the duct tape?” said another person.

“Please,” I said and closed my eyes. “One at a time. Um, duct tape. Let’s start with that one.” I leaned forward and began. “We know duct tape can be used for many things. There are entire books on it. You can use it to fix things around the house. It has great...um...tensile strength and of course it comes in all sorts of colors now.”

Laughter in the room.

I smiled and felt better. I could do this. I did create the plan after all and I made it out of there alive. I’ll find out about Jack later. That’s it! I’ll ask Cynthia about Jack, make it part of my prep work for future interviews.

“What research did you conduct to support your crisis plan?”

“I’m afraid she can’t answer that,” Cynthia intervened, covering my mic with her hand. “Think of it as our company secret sauce. We wouldn’t other companies trying to recreate our carefully constructed crisis plan, now would we?” Even though she smiled, even though the reporters smiled back, Cynthia’s smile held power. I was beginning to hate that smile.

“I spent a lot of personal time on this,” I said. That sounded better than saying that I ate a lot of popcorn and ice cream and binged zombie shows and movies. “My role was to create something that an everyday person could follow using the items they have at hand,” I said and Cynthia seemed pleased. “So duct tape is usually an item people have, right? It might even be the generic kind, but they have it, and that counts.”

Ileum cracked open the water bottle and placed it in front of me.

“Did you kill anyone?”

I spit the water out and coughed. Ileum patted me on the back. Just once. It was more of a slap. Cynthia gave me a sympathetic look. A wave of flashing lights blinked on and off like a strobe. I closed my eyes until the speckled afterimage faded. I could feel the cameras getting closer. Wasn’t there a line or something to keep them back?

I wheezed, blinking back tears and managed to clarify, “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“There are no pending charges whatsoever,” Cynthia added. “Mrs. Mingle simply defended herself.”

“What do you mean by ‘defended herself’? Can you give us more details?”

“Did you see any dead bodies?”

“Did you lose anyone close to you?”

“What was it like on the inside?”

“Were you relieved when the rescue team arrived?”

“Are you having a romantic affair with Captain Ileum?”

“What?” I blinked at the bright lights, trying to find who asked the question, hoping I wasn’t blushing, but my face felt like it was on fire. “Yes, I mean no, no I’m not having a romantic affair. Yes,” I nodded, “yes, I was relieved to see the Captain and his entire team.”

“How did you accurately predict the arrival of a specialized team?”

“Patterns,” I said before I yelled out the name of a movie. “Patterns in how our rescue units work.”

“Naturally, we will have more details about our specialized and trained units at a later time,” Cynthia added. She gave the Captain a pointed look and he leaned forward into his mic.

He wore his dark uniform and only now did I notice how nondescript it was. Even the company logo was a dark color, so that you had to really look to notice it. He had rolled the sleeves up, which gave him a more casual appearance. Yet it was obvious he was strong, from the frame of his shoulders, to the wire-like muscles along his forearms. That was when I realized I was staring at him in front of all of these cameras and people.

Feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, I leaned back and swallowed more water.

Captain Ileum launched into a brief explanation of his team’s approach. It sounded technical and was filled with military jargon. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t jealous. He sounded composed, detached. He sounded prepared.

“And that’s when we encountered Ms. Mingle. She was a primary target,” he said.

“Why was she important?”

“Did you know her before?”

“What protocols do you have in place for extracting one individual? Do the lives of all of your employees matter or just some?”

I flinched. Ileum probably did have orders to extract me. What if he had been late? Or worse, what if he had been unsuccessful?

Cynthia smiled. “Naturally every employee is important in E.O.W. Prep Inc. We have a strict hiring process, so those who qualify are family. However, Ms. Mingle had contact with patient zero and was the designer of the crisis plan. Moving forward, we knew her data gathering ability would be crucial. This was no longer a hypothetical intervention plan, but a living document. We are talking about the first zombie expert, ladies and gentlemen.”

There was a loud gasp and a hush, followed by a wave of whispers, adjustments of cameras, lunging of microphones, and smartphones. All eyes were on me again and I felt myself being pulled apart, put back together, pixelated, pressed, flattened, copied, sent. I knew I had to stay off the internet tonight. I didn’t even want to imagine the reaction videos to this.

Despite having all eyes on me, Cynthia continued, “Sandy Mingle accurately predicted what an assault of this magnitude could look like. Moreover, she was caught in the middle of that exact crisis. Her safety was paramount to us. To all of us, not just E.O.W. Prep. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Cynthia paused and smiled at me. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. Her smile did not remind me of sunsets and chirping cicadas. It was cold, succinct: a reminder. Cynthia didn’t need me to prep before this press conference. She had already prepped me weeks ago when we first met in an interview room. And all it took was a gag order and a brochure.