to do here. Now in the past you might have thought that you were better than me and that your jobs were more important than mine, but I want to put things straight. We're all small cogs in a much bigger machine.' He paused again, pleased with the clich? he'd just managed to slip into his address. It made him sound more confident than he actually was, although his nerves were now beginning to fade slightly. `Without me none of you would be able to do your jobs properly.' He took another deep breath before making another crucial point. `Without me this branch wouldn't function.'
Walters paused for a moment to let the others fully absorb the enormity of what he was saying. Almost on cue Compton's body slid off the chair he'd left it on. Its head hit the wall with a dull thud. Walters, thrown off his stride momentarily, seethed with anger. He picked up the corpse and threw it back onto its seat.
`You see,' he yelled, finding it hard to keep calm and controlled, `that's exactly the kind of thing I wanted to talk to you lot about. You all think it's funny, don't you? You think you can all have a good laugh at my expense. Well you can't, not any more. I've had enough. I've had enough of being the butt of all your stupid bloody jokes and of having to do all the donkey work around here. It's not fair, do you hear me?'
Statham's corpse became more and more animated as the volume of Walters' voice increased. Other than that, however, the other dead bodies failed to respond. Their lack of reaction incensed him.
`How dare you?' he screamed. `How dare you treat me like this? Show me some bloody respect, will you? I've been working flat out this morning while you've all been sat on your backsides doing nothing. If I stopped working like you lot then this place would grind to a halt in seconds. Well things are going to change round here. I'm not going to carry you anymore, do you hear me? From now on you're on your own...'
Still no response.
Walters grabbed Janice Phelps by the scruff of her neck and screamed into her dead, decaying, discoloured face.
`Are you listening to me?'
Janice wasn't, but the other bodies in the building clearly were. The dead hordes in the banking hall began to beat their rotting fists against the walls, driven wild by the desperate man's voice. Walters ignored the noise as best he could.
`There's not a lot that any of us can do today, not until the power comes back on anyway,' he said, his voice now fractionally calmer. `I'm going to shut the branch and I suggest we all go home. We'll come back tomorrow morning and try again, shall we?'
He looked around the room again for a response but didn't get one. The hammering on the wall behind him continued unabated.
Walters stood in the middle of the manager's office for a moment, surrounded by his dead colleagues, and he realised that he felt a little better. The others hadn't agreed with him, but they hadn't turned against him either. More importantly, he'd just taken a managerial decision and no-one had argued. Could it be that he was about to be shown some respect? Had the rest of them finally realised just how important he was to this office and to the company? Bloody hell, he thought, maybe he should try the same approach on his family when he got back home. Maybe he could make them listen to him too?
`I'm going to lock the door,' he said, his voice suddenly cocksure and uncharacteristically strong.
He still had the key in his pocket from when he'd opened up hours earlier. Brimming with unexpected confidence he stepped over the outstretched feet of Compton's body (which had slid down off the chair again) and left the manager's office. He walked through the back-office and made his way towards the heavy security door which separated the staff from the customers. Security conscious as ever, he peered through the fish-eye lens viewing hole before going through. Bloody hell, he thought, the banking hall was suddenly full of customers. Now this was how it always used to be on a Monday. With no computers working and no cash in his till he couldn't serve them of course. He'd just have to go out there and make an announcement. He'd tell the customers how things were going to be in the same way he'd just told the staff. He was getting pretty damn good at taking charge of situations.
A deep breath and he opened the door. A sudden, second-long pause followed before the huge mass of rotting flesh which had filled the building turned and lurched towards him. Ignorant to the sudden danger of his situation, Walters pushed deeper into the crowd, fighting to move forward as everything else pressed against him.
`If you could just bear with me for a second please, ladies and gentlemen,' he shouted as he struggled to stay upright. A sudden surge of decaying corpses from the general direction of the main entrance door knocked him off-balance and altered his direction. He found himself shuffling helplessly further back into the building and reached out to try and stop himself moving. The bodies pushed him back against the wooden counter. He climbed up onto the other side of his own till and stood tall above the crowd. Before trying to speak again he brushed himself down. He was covered in stains from the customers.
`Now look,' he shouted, `I'm sorry but we've got some problems here today. Our computer systems are down and staff shortages mean that we've not been able to get into the safe. I apologise for any inconvenience, but I'm going to have to ask you all to leave. If you'd like to come back tomorrow morning I'm sure we'll be able to...'
Another forward surge in the crowd interrupted him. The sound of his voice seemed to be attracting interest from all around. The bank was filling up instead of emptying. For some strange reason more and more people were trying to get inside. The situation was beginning to get uncomfortable.
`Look,' Walters tried again, `I realise this is out of the ordinary and I understand that you've been inconvenienced, but I do need your cooperation. There really is nothing more I can do for you today. Please come back tomorrow when I'll be more than happy to...'
Damn. They still weren't listening. Still more people were trying to cram into the building. Walters couldn't stand it when people didn't listen to him.
`Please,' he yelled, now shouting at the top of his voice again to make sure that even the people still struggling in the doorway to get inside could hear him, `let's have some common-sense here...'
Without realising it had happened Walters had gradually been forced further and further back along the counter. He now found himself at the opposite end of the banking hall to the doors he'd originally intended closing. Between him and the other end of the long, narrow room were at least a hundred furious customers. He looked down into the faces of the nearest few. Christ, they looked angry. If he wasn't careful the situation might turn nasty. He banged on the wall behind him, hoping that one of the others in the manager's room would hear him and come out to help.
`Could I have a hand out here please,' he shouted, watching anxiously as another wave of bodies attempted to cram themselves into the already tightly-packed building. `Tony... Brian... could one of you come and...'
His words were cut short as the heaving movement of the bodies at the far end of the building rippled along the room and reached him. With nowhere else to go the closest of them reached up for him. Two or three of them managed to catch hold of the bottom of his bank uniform trousers. He recoiled and tried to pull away but lost his footing. He slipped down from the counter and fell into the bodies below him like a bizarre middle-aged crowd surfer at a concert. Panicking, and fearing for his life, he covered his head with his hands and curled himself up into a ball. He had to move. Crawling on his hands and knees he began to slowly move forward, weaving through the forest of decomposing feet which continued to stagger deeper into the bank. For a fraction of a second he thought about trying to help the others get out but he knew he couldn't go back. Without him realising it had happened the coward in him had suddenly been allowed to take control again. The momentary flame of strength and defiance that had burned today had suddenly been extinguished just as quickly as it had been lit. Terrified he closed his eyes and kept pushing forward, ignoring the countless bodies which stood and blocked his way, working his way around them. He accidentally knocked a handful of them down and they fell like skittles. He kept on moving, forcing himself on inch by slow and painful inch until he was level with the front door of the bank. Should he try and stand up to close and lock it? He knew it was impossible ? he'd never be able to do it. Knowing that he was weak and hating himself for his lack of courage and strength, Walters instead kept on crawling forward until he was out of the building, down the ramp and onto the street. The crowd slightly thinner, he picked himself up and began to run, glancing back at the overrun bank for a second before sprinting towards home. Ten o'clock. A half-eaten can of cold baked beans and three-quarters of a bottle of whiskey later.
The house was silent, save for the occasional thump from Matthew upstairs. Walters sat alone in darkness at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. He couldn't stop thinking about the events of the day now drawing to
