Day 7 of 31 Stories - Zombie Jamboree

(I'm still going with day numbers, even though that obviously no longer matches the dates of the month. Consistency! Or something.)

Ever since I thought of this story title, I've had the song stuck in my head. Specifically, I've had a version done by Rockapella stuck in my head, and it's a version I have yet to be able to find. It used to live on my now long-dead iPod lo, these many moons ago, but I haven't been able to find it since. Alas! At any rate, please enjoy day 7 - Zombie Jamboree.

The ballroom of the Library was one of the few large places that could host hundreds of people (or creatures, as it were) without causing a big log jam. Sheila still wasn't sure why there was a ballroom in a library, or why it needed to be used at least once a month or so (at least, she figured it was about once a month - time ran strangely in the Library), but so long as there were events in the ballroom and she worked for the food service sector of the Library staff, she would have a job. A very weird job on occasion, yes, but a job nonetheless.

Sheila worked with two other servers to set up the buffet table around the outside of the room, following the hand-drawn schematics their manager had given them. Previously, the only events Sheila had worked had been for, well, people, of various types of human - a group of doctors, one of detectives, another batch that seemed to be law enforcement through the ages, all of whom looked like a typical human-type person and ate standard human-type meals. There had always been some form of salad bar, for example, and a prime rib station, so everything had resembled what Sheila was used to serving in her old job on the outside. This was the first event she'd worked that had been for a more discerning clientele, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. The food that they were putting out was not what she would consider to be the most appetizing in the world, but it hadn't seemed too strange at first.

"Man, but I hate when the flesh-eaters have their parties," Adam grumbled as he set out another water bath and sterno heater, prepared to hold another tray of food meant to be kept warm. "Give me the vampires any day of the week, man. At least their stuff is fresh."

"Yeah, but there's no garlic," Elena replied as she put out a stack of plastic plates. Sheila was surprised to see the lightweight, cheaper dishes being used; normally, events in the ballroom required the heavy china. "What's the point in fresh food if there's no garlic? Right, new girl?"

Sheila pulled another handful of heavy paper napkins out of their packaging and set them in a stack next to the plates. "I can't say that I would want to go through a meal without any garlic if I could help it," she admitted. "Still, what do you mean by 'flesh-eaters,' Adam? I mean, we don't really have a lot of call for vegetarian groups, do we?"

Adam and Elena paused as they turned to get more supplies off their carts, exchanging looks. Sheila looked between the two of them, wondering exactly what she was missing, and which one of them was going to tell her what she needed to know.

Before either of them opened their mouths, however, their manager came bustling out of the back hallway that served as the service entrance and exit to the kitchen. Donna clapped her hands on the edges of her clipboard to get their attention, and waited with ill-disguised impatience as the three servers turned toward her. "Yes, thank you! We have a fairly small spread for tonight, thankfully, as the master of ceremonies is providing some of his own food for the group, but we do need to get the basics out before our first guests start to arrive. Elena, Adam, you know the drill for these folks, so get to it. Sheila, with me." She beckoned and, without waiting to see if her new hire was following, turned back to the door to the back hall and made her way around the corner almost before Sheila could see where she'd gone.

Elena mouthed "good luck!" as Sheila hurried to catch up, closing the door behind them a little harder than was strictly necessary. Elena then turned to Adam, raising one eyebrow. "What do you think? New girl is on the menu?"

Adam paused in the act of setting up another hot tray and gave the question some thought before shaking his head. "Unlikely. Sheila's been doing pretty well. You know Donna only feeds the poor producers to the clients, and Sheila's been a pretty quick study. I'm thinking she's getting the run-down on what to expect from the more special groups, and seeing if she'll go screaming into the night. We do lose a couple that way every year."

Elena sighed as she continued unloading her catering cart. "Yeah. My friend Dani couldn't deal when we had to serve werewolves the first time - something about the way they ate farm to table really bothered her. I thought it was nice to see how we were respecting the food, going back to the roots of cooking, as it were, but that wasn't a common mindset."

Adam snorted. "No, I don't imagine it was." Wrinkling his nose at the smell, he put the first of the big trays of food onto the water bath and lit the sterno to keep things warm. "Man, I am not looking forward to unwrapping this."

Elena coughed, covering her mouth with her elbow. "Ugh. Yeah, it's pretty strong, but you know that's how they like it. Leave it until we're just about to leave - no need to let it air out for too long, you know?" Adam nodded his agreement, and together they moved swiftly through the rest of their preparations.

Just as they were finishing up, Sheila and Donna returned to the ballroom. Sheila looked a bit shell-shocked, but also wore an expression of skepticism that Elena remembered all too well. Donna was resigned. "Adam, Elena, let's get the carts out of here. Sheila is going to be serving tonight. Sheila, we'll be in the kitchen if things get too busy for you, so don't let yourself get overrun - if it feels like there are too many to deal with by yourself, ask for help." Donna looked Sheila directly in the eye as she said the last part, and Elena felt a pang of sympathy for the new server.

Adam didn't feel such qualms. "Ready to go," he announced as he prepared to roll his cart back into the hallway. He gave Sheila a brief nod and led the way out of the ballroom, and Elena and Donna followed closely behind. Just as the door swung closed behind them, Elena thought she heard the first moans coming through the ballroom. She shuddered involuntarily, and moved faster through the hall back towards the kitchen.

Donna stayed behind the other two, listening at the door. Music had begun to play through the sound system, but she couldn't hear any lyrics to the songs. The only noises she could hear that sounded like they came from a person were the occasional moan and groan as the party slowly started to make their way into the ballroom. She cracked the door open just a bit, and her nose was assaulted by the smell of warm roadkill from the steam table. Sheila, clever woman, had opened up the food as soon as the first guests started to arrive, and now she was starting to serve.

The zombies were forming a more-or-less orderly line, making Sheila's life a bit easier. Some had obviously been turned only recently, why others were barely holding it together. Donna noticed a few hopping zombies, in addition to the standard walkers. They'd been given enough room to move in the wide arcs that made up their general locomotion, thankfully, so there weren't any of the tangles of zombie knots that Donna had seen in the past.

Opening the door a little wider, she watched as Sheila carefully carved part of a raccoon onto a plate for a fresh zombie. The moans coming out of that zombie's mouth became appreciative, and Sheila smiled in return. "You're welcome!" she chirped as she turned to the next customer. Something about her customer-service smile and cheerful disposition both pleased Donna and made her a tiny bit uneasy. She stuck her head out of the door a bit and caught Sheila's eye, mouthing the question "All good?"

Sheila gave her a brilliant smile and a thumbs-up before turning that smile to the next zombie, a gray-colored man whose afterlife had already outlasted his breathing life by at least two to one. He was remarkably well-preserved, and Sheila was able to chat for a moment as she served him.

Nodding in satisfaction, Donna let the door close behind her and continued down the hall. It looked like the new girl was going to make it after all, and not as a canapé. Now to wash the dishes and prepare for next month's ghoul convention...