CHAPTER EIGHT: AD INFINITUM

Sooner or later- Arthur had given up on keeping track of time, what with the pin and needles en his face turning to daggers and swords- the fellow at the door had been let in.

It was the first time in three months that Arthur had seen a blighter.

The thing was dressed in a long black trench coat, with a similarly coloured suit and tie to boot. If it weren't for the splash of colour provided by his yellow shirt, he'd have looked like he was headed for someone's funeral.

Judging from the fellow's physical state, Arthur thought, it could have well been his own. Chunks of his flesh were simply missing- exposing the musculature or skeleton underneath. Like the hole where his cupid's bow should have been, giving it what Arthur supposed was a cleft but looked more like a cat's split lip. It made the guy's already crooked smile all the more unnerving, especially when paired with those foggy eyes, always staring into the mid-distance, the whites of which had turned a yellowish grey.

In short, he was the type Arthur wouldn't be seen dead around. The cheer exaggerated charisma and sleaziness radiating off the blighter was sickening.

Mercy, on the other hand, seemed to not mind it in the slightest- eagerly welcoming the guy in, giving up his seat so that the undead could sit there.

"So," Mercy started, already gauging Arthur's distaste. "This is my dealer- the fella I get my meds off of, to give to you." He said, gesturing in Arthur's direction, then at the blighter's.

"How you doin'?" The thing said, with some sort of New York accent that Arthur almost spat out his paracetamol trying not to laugh at. "Mane'a James- James Jonah Jackson but feel free to call me dim." He offered a half-rotting hand to Arthur, accompanied by a too-easy going mile.

"I'm Arthur. Pleasure meeting you." He said, looking at the hand but not touching it. He didn't want so catch something nasty and get another surgery courtesy of James quickly pulled back hie hand-bf which there were only three and a half fingers remaining letting it imply rest on his knee. "Don't worry big guy- I've hearda you before. Even back in the big apple, everyone knows that handsome.. uhh, face, when they see it." He briefly looked at Mercy who was sat on the floor next to James, whispering something to him.

"What in the hell happened to his face?"

"I did. And a And a shell full of ratshot," Mercy said quietly, just barely audible to Arthur, who felt his cheeks burn once he realised what they were talking about. He cleared his throat. "I'm right here, you know. You're more than welcome to ask me what happened to my face. In fact, I'd quite like to know what happened to yours, since you're getting so chatty."

This elicited a foreboding look from Mercy, and a chuckle from James.

Oh- I didn't know a CEO could be clever! Bow you got me confused as to why your workers are so miserable."

"Probably because the ones you've seen were around you." Arthur replied, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"You'd be surprised how at at home those people are around me pal- I met one of yer janitors just last week, and he seemed well happy when I sold him a shotgun on the cheap." James said, running a hand through his ginger hair- there was enough of it to look like a wig on hie, but it was too matted, grey and sad looking to be one which was neatly combed backwards- at least, to the beat of his ability. "Speaking of, you guys, I got some stock you might like."

Arthur simply raised his eyebrows expectantly, as if urging his to go on. Mercy, on the other hand, seemed eager to try and smooth over the conversation. "Go on then, let's see whatchu got." He said, straightening a little. 

James undid the buttons on his coat- opening it like some back-alley drug dealer! from a film set in his home town. Arthur could almost hear him talk about "the stuff" and the lengths he went through to secure it.

"So here's the stuff, you'd be surprised at what lengths I went through to secure it." James He said, triumphantly slamming down a few objects onto the floor between the three of them. There were two revolvers, some canteens and water filtration tablets. Nothing unusual there, Arthur thought, until he saw the last thing. A small, oblong little thing with a few buttons on the side and a blank screen on the front. A logo- Alco. Technologies- flickered on the screen before fading to black.

"Is that-" Arthur started, before getting cut off by James.

"Yep, the Alco. Portable Computational Terminal. From the looks of it, one of your older models.. I'd say, wait, fifteen years back?"

Mercy bemusedly looked at Arthur, who seemed to barely contain himself. For a moment, he was worried the stitches might pop open.

"It ie, actually. That's the model I released back in 105, back when I had just got outta uni. Where did you even get it from?" James mimed zipping his mouth shut.

"Hey now, I sell the product. Info comes cold separately, and that's when I's in the giving mood. Speaking of sales, I'm tryna fetch a pretty penny for this here-" Before James could continue his little pitch, Arthur snatched the mobile.

"Hey pal," continued, "No free samples. Give it back or pay for it."

"Can't do that for you, sorry. Company policy- no resellers." Arthur said, slipping the thing in his suit in one deft movement.

"Bud, I ain't the threatening type, but I'm gunna bite you if you don't give it back." James said, that easy-going exile from earlier was replaced with a bitter grimace. Mercy immediately placed a hand on the blighter's chest, keeping him down. "Don't try that with my patients Jim. I'll pay for it, along with the meds. You can keep the revolvers- I won't be needing them anytime soon."

"Fine, fine.. Mr. Langdon, you're one lucky fella, y'know that? Doc's a great guy, you better be saying your thank you's to him, yeah?" James said, as if nothing had happened, in his usual sing-song voice.

Arthur nodded, still happy with himself for grabbing that terminal,

"Course I am, why wouldn't I be? Anyway, I do thank you for so kindly giving me that terminal. It should still have access to company files on it- you're a lifesaver, Ja," Arthur said, in shat might have been. a sincere way if it weren't for the fact he was talking to the blighter.

"I don't know about lifesaver, actually, more like money-saver. Who else would let ya keep that for free? I'm telling you man, no one either side of the Thames is topping me when it comes to salesmanship." As if to illustrate this point, Jame opened hie coat, displaying a variety of goods inside. All sorts of guns and melees, and some basic provisions.

"Uh- didn't know your kind came so well-stocked. Arthur remarked, giving James a glare. "Well being dead gets you places. Who'd have thought? But if anyone asks where you got that doohickey from, tell 'em you know a guy."

Mercy was scrounging about in the pouches of his vest, producing another tattered medicine box, a well as a pill bottle, half-empty. "Here's your stuff. That's your water filtration tablets, and the Valium you asked for. Next. time you come around, have the Robitussin ready for you, yeah?"

James accepted the stuff with a toothy grin, pocketing them immediately. "Yeah, will do. For now, I got what I cane for. Ladies," A wink at Mercy, "And gentlemen, I shall depart." He announced, and with an exaggerated bow left the room. Roughly three seconds later, the door was slammed shut.

A nasty, bitter breeze sweeped through the room.

A tense silence, which Arthur was only too happy to break.

"So... that James fellow, huh? He's quite the character. Why in the name of God did you let him in?" He asked, leaning forward on the recliner.

"Cause, he has the stuff I need to keep practising medicine. Just because. he's a blighter don't mean he got a taste for your brains, Arthur."

"He threatened to bite me."

"Because you stole from him."

Arthur put a hand to his chest, in what seemed to be outrage. "I stole from him? He's reselling one of my products. I simply took back what's mine."

'Look, now," Mercy sighed, "We all gotta hack ourselves a living somehow, Arthur, like what I was tellin' you earlier. It's a wasteland out there, and we all got our way of coping."

"I'll... I'll give you that. If it weren't for the fact he's a blighter. You know, a flesh-eating, apocalypse causing, bloodlusted zombie."

Mercy could only sigh again. "Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"Take your paracetamol."