man and I'll do whatever's expected of me.' He paused and looked around at the lifeless faces which surrounded him. Ignorant bastards weren't even looking at him. He continued regardless. 'We've all got a job 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.