The wolves are outside–
Why are there wolves outside? This is still NYC, right?
But is it really? Because the plague was much worse than even the CDC had talked about, until their feed was choked–both by the military and by they’re own swollen throats.
And now you’re holed up in your office. You figured it made the most sense: plenty of food in the cafeteria and the pantries on each floor. Plenty of water–even if it meant using the toilets as resevoirs. The advantage of height with enough ways to egress that the prospect of being trapped wasn’t much of a problem.
More importantly, it’s a place that’s familiar. You spent most of your life wandering these halls anyway (or so it seems). This is homebase. Here, the people tagged “It” couldn’t get you.
But now wolves are howling on Broadway.
Sounds like a musical, you think. Then you grimace. Because it’s been weeks, and the electricity has been off for much of that time. The only thing keeping the stench of rotting food is the seal of the refrigeratos themselves. You’re running out of desk candy–all those gratis bowls are now devoid of anything but the least desirable snacks–and you were about to forage.
Whole Foods isn’t that far away, although you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s picked clean. Or, worse, the lack of preservatives in most of the food has rendered the place a reeking den of spoilage.
Morton Williams is probably in the same boat–the spoilage, not the picked-over part.
Because you’ve spent most of your days observing from your perch high above Midtown, and you can’t remember a single soul braving the streets. At least, not since those two guys with the garbage truck, loading bodies…
That was weeks ago.
The wolves are massing on the street. You can see the pack, and you realize it’s not wolves at all. Rather, it’s dogs–dogs who are no longer domestic pets, but wild animals again, dismissing the thousands of years of nurture and returning to their natural roots.
There must be over fifty down there.
And you’re a walking sack of kibble.
What do you do?
1. Wait for the dogs to go away. You’ve got enough supplies for a few more days, at least…you wuss.
2. Confront the alpha dog. Rip out it’s hamstring with your teeth, and enjoy the adulation of a pack of filthy mutts.
3. Make a mini bow-and-arrow with office supplies like Gizmo and go to town on those dogs and anyone else that gets in your way.
4. Go to the CEO’s office and see if you can find the escape hatch the company must have installed for him.
