Neither Snow, Nor Rain,
Nor Zombie Infection
By
Richard A. Powell II
Copyright © 2012 Richard A. Powell II
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
All persons in this story are fictitious, and any resemblance that may seem to exist to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental or for purposes of satire or parody. This is a work of fiction.
This story is part of a collection: Neither Snow, Nor Rain, Nor Zombie Infection & Other Strange Tales. Available on amazon.com in paperback and for Kindle.
Neither Snow, Nor Rain, Nor Zombie Infection
Hank Bloom loved being a mailman. He got to meet interesting people, his pension and benefits were pretty good for a middle class living, and the exercise was just enough to keep him in shape without being overwhelming. He had a good job, good health, and a good life.
Hank's route had recently changed, taking him partially out of his neighborhood walking delivery, converting about twenty-five percent of his total time to the local businesses that surrounded his usual residential area. This was not such a big deal, really, but it did involve more driving and less walking. At fifty-three years old and five years from retirement, he had no desire to be less active. The walking kept his arthritis in check and helped him from gaining any weight as he aged. He reluctantly embraced the change and eventually got used to doing things a little different. No one ever evolved into a better person by always doing the exact same thing forever, Hank often told himself. Even at his age, he knew there were still many things to learn and experience.
Monday morning would come too soon. At about 6:30 a.m., Hank did his usual routine: shit, shower, and shave; after coffee, naturally. He still felt a little under the weather from a head cold that presented itself Friday, but overall he was feeling much better. A daytime decongestant, a multivitamin, and plenty of fluids would help get him through the day. There were letters to be delivered and a little sniffle never stopped Hank.
Sitting on the couch waiting for his time to leave, Hank watched the morning news program on local channel five, but hardly paid attention as he struggled to wake up. They were still heavily focused on a potentially dangerous bacterial outbreak discovered over the weekend. Speculation was rampant. Rumors flew around about it attacking the brain and making people go insane; while others were sure it was flesh-eating and just outright killing folks. No one really knew what it was or how bad the risks were for the general population.
A county in eastern Oklahoma, two hundred miles from where Hank lived, was quarantined late Saturday, but since then the details had been scarce. There was no information going in or coming out of the area. People in the surrounding counties in Oklahoma were on red alert, but most of the rest of the country stood complacent, going about their business in a - wait and see - mode.
For Hank's part, he would live up to his duties as postal carrier and deliver the mail. He rarely missed a day of work. He took pride in always making accurate deliveries, and was friendly and known by name amongst his mail recipients. He represented the perfect mail carrier, and he embodied the unofficial mottos that are familiar to all. He wore rain gear when it poured, snow boots during blizzards, and shorts during the summer. For the post office, and for Hank, there were not many things that could stop mail service, and apparently, flesh-eating bacteria of an unknown origin wouldn't either.
