Work Location: Literally My Grave

Zane Zander arrives at Northpoint Corp only to find a desolate cemetery where the office should be. Despite the grim scenery, his GPS confirms a successful check-in, prompting an angry message from his boss regarding his location. Terror strikes when Zane spots his own name and photo on a fresh headstone. With no signal to call for help, he watches a double in his clothing emerge from the dirt. This chilling fantasy and horror novel explores a man's desperate struggle to understand if he has already met a grisly end.

Chapters

Chapter 2

The group chat blew up.

People who never liked me piled on:

[Always thought Zane's numbers were off. Guess this isn't his first time.]

[If he's faking check-ins, what about those old contracts...?]

I stared at the screen. My knuckles went white.

Jay, you're ruthless. You're trying to crush me.

I opened the camera, ready to record and drop it in the group.

If they saw this—

If they saw the stone with my name—

They'd know I was being set up.

I aimed at the headstone and hit record.

The screen flickered.

Battery dropped from 80 percent to 1 percent.

[Low Battery. Shutting down.]

The phone went black.

"Damn it!"

I tossed it onto the passenger seat.

Someone messed with it. No doubt.

Footsteps sounded behind the car.

Rustle... rustle.

Dry weeds crunching.

My eyes snapped to the rearview mirror.

The guy in my exact suit was back. Less than thirty feet behind me, gripping a shovel, staring at my car.

Mask on. Just his eyes showing.

And yeah—those eyes? Straight-up murderous.

***

Every hair on my body spiked.

Not a ghost. A man.

Jay's guy.

They wanted me stuck here—pin the "clocking in without showing up" crap on me.

I slammed it into gear and floored it.

The engine roared. Tires screamed.

Bang.

The car jerked hard to one side.

Metal screamed.

The tire blew.

I slammed the brakes. The front end smashed into a dead tree.

Airbag blew—my head spun.

I shoved the door open and stumbled out.

All four tires—slashed. Clean cuts. On purpose.

Shovel guy didn't run.

He lifted it and started toward me.

"Who the hell are you?" I yelled, snatching up a rock.

He stopped—like he didn't expect me to push back.

"How much did Jay pay you?" I locked on him. "Kidnapping, threats, wrecking my car—that's years in prison!"

Nothing.

Just a cold laugh.

Then he turned and ran.

He moved fast and smoothly, disappearing behind a fresh grave in seconds.

"Don't run!" I charged after him, rock in hand.

I rounded the dirt mound.

Nothing.

Empty.

Just a suit jacket on the ground—same as mine.

Psychological games. Make me think I saw a ghost. Make me doubt myself.

If I cracked, Jay would love it.

The place was dead. Not a soul around.

I forced a breath. Get it together.

The only thing that mattered was getting back to the company.

Mr. Lloyd said the meeting had already started.

If I didn't make it in an hour, I was done.

Not just fired—

Branded a fraud. Blacklisted.

I went back to the car and plugged in my phone.

The screen flickered on.

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