Work Location: Literally My Grave

I sat in the driver's seat as the GPS chimed, "You've arrived at Northpoint Corp. Check-in successful."

I looked up.

Graves. Nothing but graves.

My phone buzzed. My boss tagged me in the group chat:

[Zane Zander, system says you checked in ten minutes ago. Where the hell are you? The whole company's waiting. Learned how to spoof your GPS to slack off?]

Cold sweat slid down my back.

I stared at the fresh headstone outside my window.

My photo was on it.

My hands shook. I tried to send my boss a video—no signal. Just dead bars.

No service.

So how did I check in?

Worse—

In the rearview mirror, someone in my exact outfit rose slowly from behind a dirt mound.

Could it be... Was I already "dead"?

I whipped my head around.

The figure in the mirror flickered—then vanished into the weeds.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Before I could steady myself, my phone rang.

The screen flashed: [Boss.]

No signal... right?

I fumbled and answered.

"Zane Zander! What the hell are you pulling?" Ryan Lloyd's voice blasted through the phone. "Meeting's about to start. Senior management is waiting for your report. Where are you?"

I swallowed. My throat felt like sand. "Mr. Lloyd, I—I ran into something weird. I followed the GPS. It said I arrived, but I'm in a cemetery!"

A beat of silence.

Then he exploded.

"A cemetery? You still drunk? The system shows you clocked in at your desk at 8:55. It's 9:10. You're not on any camera! Faking sales wasn't enough? Now you're spoofing attendance?"

"I didn't use anything!" I shot back. "I'm in a cemetery. My headstone's right outside the car!"

The call disconnected.

I stared at the dark screen. A chill shot up my spine.

Check-in successful?

I was here. So who checked in for me?

I looked at the headstone again.

The stone was gray and fresh—too fresh.

A photo was pasted on it.

My employee ID photo from when I first joined.

Below it, letters in red:

[Zane Zander]

[Placed by Jay Zander]

Jay Zander.

My younger brother.

My biggest rival at Northpoint Corp.

My head buzzed.

Last night at the department dinner, Jay kept refilling my drink.

He helped me into the car. Said he'd called a driver.

Then I woke up here.

This wasn't supernatural.

Someone was trying to bury me.

I shoved the door open. My legs buckled, almost dropping me into the mud.

Weeds and dirt mounds stretched everywhere. Cold wind cut through them.

I had to get back.

If I made it back, I could fix this.

I reached for the ignition—

Ping.

A message popped up.

Northpoint Corp group chat.

Jay posted a screenshot of the attendance log:

[Zane, if you don't want to show up, just say it. Pulling a fake check-in like this drags the whole department down. Mr. Lloyd hates fraud. You're asking for trouble.]