I was greeted by an eerie silence as I pushed open the glass door and descended the stairs to the Benay Enterprises office. Each step echoed, shattering the sound of silence that irked me upon my entry. As I reached the last step, the squeaking hinge of the closing door alerted me. I glanced over my shoulder to make certain no one had been following. Dead silence awaited me at the bottom of the staircase. Where were the normal sounds my ears have grown accustomed to over the last month? The copy machine was not cranking out page after page. No phones ringing or friendly voices discussing finances; even the sweet cinnamon scent of Merrilee’s air freshener had faded and been replaced by a dingy, musty, nothingness. As I paced up and down the halls, looking for any sign of life, I found that every office door was closed and locked. A light was flickering in Dawn’s office, illuminating the ominously dark hallway from the gaps between door and wall. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. Fearing Dawn was on a conference call and could not hear me, I knocked again, harder, yet the only noise my ears could make out was the whistle of the windy front left behind in Hurricane Sandy’s wake.
The door to my office was open, and assuming my boss had not arrived yet, I figured I may as well get to work and prove myself a solid intern. I flicked on the light switch, but the lights did not work. No power, I presumed, and decided it was time to go home. As I quickly fled from the empty office building, I realized my steps were the only thing I could hear. Even more peculiar was the fact that the daily hustle and bustle of downtown Danbury had disappeared, vanished in the matter minutes. Buildings had been set aflame, yet there were no screams for help or ear piercing fire alarms. The only section of Danbury that was not severely affected by the storm suddenly sat in utter darkness. As I rounded the corner and proceeded down the alleyway, I heard signs of life in the distance. With great anticipation, I tiptoed towards the noise. My precaution turned into worry, as the hopeful signs of life revealed themselves as deep and fearful grunts of desperation. Running towards the noises and fearing that others had been severely harmed in some sort of apocalyptic disaster, I failed to realize the only life I should have feared for was my own!
Susan, Merrilee, Dawn, and her son Justin were the source of the ungodly groans. However, their once friendly faces had been deformed and deranged; pale and lifeless skin was peeling from their faces. Deep, open wounds revealed the white of their bones. It was then I realized, I work for a bunch of zombies!!! Paralyzed with fear, I was swarmed by the herd of ruthless savages. As I laid helplessly, my neck being gnawed at by the lifeless beasts who were once my coworkers and friends, my legs began to tremble. Then, a bell began to ring; I could only assume it was God welcoming my soul into the Heavens. Truth is, it was something even more comforting; the alarm clock on my cellular phone was ringing. All of a sudden, I awoke in a cold sweat, feeling my face and neck to make sure they were still intact. I was alive, and even better, I wasn’t a zombie.
I got dressed and headed to Benay’s office on Main Street. As I opened the door and descended the staircase, the sweet aroma of Merilee’s air freshener welcomed me. The copy machine was cranking out page after page, and more importantly, all the friendly faces I have come to admire cheerfully greeted me upon my entry. I am proud to say that the friendly staff members at Benay Enterprises have not become victims of the zombie apocalypse, and they continue to handle their clients’ financial, bookkeeping, and human resource related needs to the fullest of their very human capabilities. Don’t let the picture frighten you as much as it did me. . Though their exceptional customer service may be out of this world, they are still very much human.
Michael Iovino, Intern, Benay Enterprises.
Independent publishing company and Benay client, Tin House Books, has recently announced an exciting new partnership with Octopus Books. The marriage has resulted in a co-published collaborative series of poetry books, the first of which will be released March 2013. Though they both call the edgy city of Portland, Oregon home, the two visionary publishing companies share more than an area code. Both emphasized their concern for the lack of poetry books being published in the current market and see their new collaboration as a potential model for other publishers that have shied away from the poetic genre. 
Matthew Dickman, poetry editor at Tin House magazine, and Zachary Schomburg, editor at Octopus Books have chosen Portuguese to be the first title released in the series. Authored by Brandon Shimoda, the pen responsible for O Bon (Litmus Press 2011), The Girl Without Arms (Black Ocean 2011), and The Alps (Flim Forum 2008), Portuguese brings together the collaborating publisher’s two distinct visions in a model that “meets at the edges” rather than in the middle. 
