luministi_logs | In outer space, zombies can't hear you scream...

Entry tags:

[doctor who] jamie mccrimmon (ou)

In outer space, zombies can't hear you scream...

Characters: Jamie and everyone in the spacestation!
Location: Various places throughout.
Time: Zombie O'Clock
Summary: The town isn't the only place where there's zombies...
Warnings: Fighting, possible disturbing imagery, explosions and making a mess of things. As for zombification, who knows?

Jamie had been in his quarters when Proctor's message had come over the CAT, and he couldn't say as he cared for how the message had cut off like that. Whatever had happened hadn't sounded good. In fact, it sounded like something had gotten into the station somehow - and given what he had seen of the man's face before the feed shut off, it likely wasn't something friendly. With a frown, he grabbed up his sword and headed out to investigate, starting towards the location where Proctor had been seen last.

All was quiet for a little bit - the spacestation was fairly empty at the best of times, with only a few of them here. But there was a feeling to a it that he didn't like, something in the air perhaps. Or maybe it was his imagination playing tricks on him, but the place was definitely giving him the creeps.

He switched to a more cautious sort of movement, carefully making his way through the hallways. And then, behind him, he could hear a noise that sounded suspiciously like feet slowly being dragged across the floor. It was accompanied by a faint groaning - and the hairs on the back of Jamie's neck stood on end. Some instinct told him to draw the sword, and he did so, even as he turned around to face whatever was coming his way.

"Whoever's there, show yourself!"

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The sound of another door slamming was followed by rapidly approaching footsteps as Jamie came into view - only to stop short at the sight that he found in front of him. Ichijou looked like someone had torn him apart, and frankly, the fact the man was even still breathing was some sort of miracle.

He wasn't entirely certain how much longer that was going to last, either, and he made his way over to Wash's side, so at least Ichijou would be able to see a human face before the end. He didn't say anything - couldn't really think of anything to say. Instead, he simply glanced over at the armored figure next to him. Was there anything they could do?

He started to protest when Ichijou moved, but he had a feeling there was no stopping the man once he got going. Gently, he nudged Ichijou's hand away, replacing it with his own and applied a firm amount of pressure to help staunch the bleeding. But...the motion was futile, he knew. He had training to make minor patch jobs out in the field, but he was definitely out of his depth with these ragged, extensive wounds.

When Jamie arrived, Wash spared him a glance, meeting his eyes, but ultimately, he turned away and returned his attention to Ichijou. He didn't care to think of the number of soldiers he'd seen blown apart and torn open by shrapnel, but none, to his memory, had been this calm. Frankly, Wash was impressed. Unfortunately, that emotion didn't help anybody.

He let out a sigh before he spoke. "Those things got you pretty good."

Things, he thought. A part of his rational mind knew just how ridiculous it all was, and the other was still processing what he'd seen. Zombies only existed in stories. It was a fundamental fact in his world that they just weren't real, like ghosts, goblins, and a whole plethora of other fictional creatures. Yet, there they were, and they'd tried to make a meal out of someone before being distracted.

"If the stories are true," he continued, his voice still as level as ever, "then there's a good chance you'll turn into one of those things once you've bled out. But since we're here, there's a good chance you'll come back to life.

"So you have a choice: we can end things now, or, um...the other option." He couldn't bring himself to utter the word "zombie". "I don't know how much time you have left, so you better choose quickly before you lose that ability."

The tiniest smile pulled at Ichijou's lips when Jamie arrived and Wash started to press down on the deepest of his wounds. He would have liked to have even more contact, possibly even to be held, but the thought was simply too embarrassing to verbalize. Even in such a dire situation, Ichijou tried to retain his sense of pride - shamelessly asking to be cradled and comforted was just too much.

Though his heart wasn't getting everything it desired, it remained strangely grateful. He was afraid, terrified even, but this was for better or worse a much more benevolent end than he had been expecting. He was in decent company, wasn't being mocked or tortured, and in a way his companions were even offering to put an easy end to his pain.

Ichijou was also familiar with the myth of zombies, mostly from overhearing his coworkers chattering about the latest movie or whatever. The little trace of a smile faded in favor of a profoundly sad sort of expression, and he nodded along with Wash's explanation of the undead creatures. He gave it a double affirmation with a shaky "I know."

Becoming a violent undead monster wasn't dignified, and if his pride could hold him back from asking to be held, it certainly could hold him back from letting himself "live" like that as well. Ichijou wished to prolong his life as much as possible (as he imagined most people would) but he knew that letting himself reach that state was no substitute for actually being alive. Zombijou would have had the same body, sure, but it wouldn't have been him. And having someone romping around with his beautiful visage that didn't share his wonderful personality was completely unacceptable.

The part about coming back to life intrigued him. Hadn't Fuu told him about something like that in the past? And come to think of it, why would his mystery tormentor let his favorite toy (or so Ichijou assumed, since he believed he had the exclusive privilege of being harassed by him) go that easily? Even if he wouldn't actually come back, he was screwed either way - but one option led to eternal rest and the other led to becoming a disgusting nuisance to some of the few people who had ever treated him well.

The tears were still flowing and Ichijou couldn't adequately hide just how afraid he was. But he still looked directly at Wash and Jamie and attempted to speak with authority.

Very weak, broken, scared authority. His lungs strained to push the words harder than his previous resigned and soft manner of speaking:

"Let me become one of them," he demanded, "and I'll never forgive you."

From there Ichijou clenched his teeth and stared up in waiting. He didn't know if they were going to give him any sort of warning before acting but in any case he planned on maintaining his tearful stare at Jamie and Wash so that he could continue to see his company, right up to the point when his eyes would no longer be able to send information to his brain.

Some of the color drained from Jamie's face as Wash spoke. He'd heard of plenty of stories about all sorts of strange and supernatural beasties in his day, and believed them. So it wasn't much of a stretch to believe that once Ichijou died he would come back as a slavering, mindless creature that would try his best to kill and eat everyone else on the spacestation - or in the town itself if he figured a way out. And it was very clear that the man would rather die then let that happen.

The problem was that for all that Jamie was good in a fight, and fully capable of defending himself when the situation arose, he'd never had to do what this particular situation demanded - to give someone mercy. The thought of it was more than a little daunting. And, to be honest, he wasn't entirely certain that Ichijou wouldn't simply get back up again afterward anyway. Not unless it was done the right way, and he didn't know what that was. Licking his lips a little nervously, he turned his attention back to Wash.

"H-how..." He paused, and swallowed heavily. "How do we so it so he'll not come back anyway?"

Edited 2012-07-01 07:14 (UTC)

A small, sad smile graced Wash's face when he heard Ichijou's response. "I won't let that happen," he said with a resolute nod.

Hearing the hesitance in Jaime's question didn't shake his resolve one bit. "See that pistol on my leg? It'll be quick. He won't feel it." He spoke as though he was giving simple instructions, not talking about ending a guy's life. Though, having been killed with a shot in the head last year, it kind of gave him an interesting perspective on the whole thing.

He removed his hand from Ichijou's abdomen, ignoring the blood sticking to his hand, and reached for said pistol. The safety was already off, the gun ready to be fired at any second, so he was at least able to spare the man of that sight.

"Jamie, we're probably gonna have to run after I do this," he said quietly, not looking over at the young man. "Those things are attracted to any loud noise, but if things get too hectic, I have one more grenade to use to make sure we get an advantage back.

"But this time," he continued, this time to Ichijou, "I won't have to warn you when I do." And then he patted Ichijou's arm. For him, that was about as much sentimentality anyone was going to get.

Having the pressure released from his belly once again triggered a pained cry. Scared as he was, Ichijou was actually looking forward to this in a way - if nothing else it wouldn't hurt anymore, and he wouldn't be able to worry about things. And if he actually came back somehow, maybe if he was lucky this whole thing would blow over while he was doing whatever dead people do. Ichijou wasn't really a spiritual person by any means, so he assumed that it would be just like going under anaesthesia.

Oh, anaesthesia sounded good right now.

Ichijou attempted to calm the sobs that shook his body to make aiming a little easier, though he was confident that Wash could handle it even if he didn't hold completely still. He hardly even processed the little quip about the grenades, although he did find being patted on the arm to be slightly reassuring.

"Thank you," he whispered, then began to count backwards in his head. Just like anaesthesia, he kept telling himself. His eyes remained wide open, breaths long and deep except for the occasional hiccup, and thoughts turned into numbers.

A simple procedure. It would be over before he knew it.

999, 998, 997, 996, 995, 994, 993...

"Aye." Considering he had heard an increased amount of groans and shuffling from the zombie-things after his fight, it made sense. The louder something was, the more they were drawn to it. It didn't quite explain why they had seemed so determined to get to him, but now wasn't the time to try and figure that out.

Instead he moved over to Ichijou's side, and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Ichijou would have to turn his head to see Jamie's face, but he would be able to feel that touch right up to the end. Maybe that would provide some sort of comfort. He didn't know if it would, but he had to try at least that much. And then, once it was over, he would be free to run.

He looked down at Ichijou one last time, then back up to Wash with a nod. Whenever the agent was ready, he was ready as well.

Quietly, Wash got to his feet, giving a nod to Jamie. "Be ready," he said simply, and then he aimed his pistol at Ichijou's head.

"We'll see you soon."

As soon as he finished speaking those words, the gun went off, the bullet finding its target with ease. He knew he didn't have to check to make sure Ichijou was gone, not after doing the same thing numerous times before in his life. Unfortunately, the loud crack drew the attention of the zombies as he'd said, and he reached for Jamie to give him a hand up. "Come on!" he ordered. "We're going to the docking bay."

That hand up was more than welcome, and he made readily made use of it to fully get back to his feet before starting to head toward the docking bay at a run. The faster they could get there, the better, in his mind.

He could hear the zombies groans grow more excited - well, if something not living could be excited, anyway. At any rate, the noises they made were louder. More numerous, too, as if homing in on the noise the gun had made.

"Aye, you're not joshing. Do ye think we'll be able to get past them to get there?"

"Of course we will," he said firmly, holding his pace steady so he could stay beside Jamie. In any other circumstance, he would have sprinted ahead, but in this place, he couldn't take the chance of getting flanked and leaving the young man exposed to attack. So instead, he reached for his last grenade, clutching it in his free hand until he had an opportunity to use it. "This should take care of enough of them for us to get away without too much interference."

As he said that, a wave of zombies flooded out into the hallway. "Speaking of... You might want to cover your ears." And with that, he chucked the grenade at the zombies, and moved ahead of Jamie to cover him and take the brunt of the blast's concussive force just in time for the grenade to blow up with a loud KABOOM.

Wash's warning wasn't actually necessary - Jamie was familiar enough with grenades that as soon as Wash looked as though he was ready to throw it he brought his hands up to cover his ears, ducking off to the side behind where two sections of the corridor wall met up, a metal brace sticking out just enough to provide a tiny amount of cover.

Between that and Wash, the concussive force was more or less absorbed and he remained on his feet. This was good, because as soon as it subsided he was was off and running again, ignoring the bits of zombie that now were scattered throughout the hallway. The noise would draw more of them, but the mess that had been left behind should be enough for them to get to their destination.

It didn't stop him from calling back to Wash to make sure the man was following. "That'll take care of them. Come on!!"

Wash had already began to run when Jamie called for him. His eyes flicked up to this motion tracker, and from the looks of things, their way would be clear for a bit--though that said nothing about what would come following after them. Nonetheless, they still had a good couple minutes of breathing room before anything could catch them. He quickly passed Jamie, his rifle at the ready, but he stayed fairly close so they weren't separated as he led the way to the docking bay.

Unsurprisingly, it too was teeming with zombies, but only a few were around the Longsword spacecraft. He was briefly very grateful that he had closed the shuttle's loading door before leaving it to sit the past couple months. "Make a run for that ship," he shouted, lunging forward to strike at a nearby zombie with his knife. He'd start firing once Jamie had gone on ahead. "Don't worry about me, I'll catch up. I can open the door remotely from here. Just go!"

"Aye!" Drawing his sword again, Jamie took off as fast as he towards the Longsword. He knew Wash would likely be able to pick off the ones nearby, but he would be a fool to expect to not have to contend with the zombies that were around the ship.

Even though he bit back the urge to yell, the sound of his feet against the floor of the docking bay was enough to start to draw the attention of some of the zombies that were between him and the ship, and they turned and started to move towards him.

So far it looked as though he was lucky - most of the closest zombies seemed to be of the slower type, and he could out run those. But there was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was too easy so far, and he hoped there wasn't a nasty surprise waiting for him once he got closer to the spacecraft.

There wasn't much to do for that but wait and see, though, and as the first of the zombies drew close enough to get within attack range, he went to meet it, sword flashing through the air and into undead flesh. He didn't dare risk a look back to see how Wash was faring, concentrating instead on taking the zombies down before the rest of them caught up to his position.

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In outer space, zombies can't hear you scream...

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