"Not Fall To Pieces," due South fic, gen
Disclaimer: I have no idea what's up with this. I don't even like zombies, you guys, what the hell? I think I'm just going to blame this on 
spook_me, even if I did come up with this idea for last year's challenge...
Also available at the AO3.
Not Fall To Pieces
"Huey, get that window boarded up better than that. You, in the bright green dress, give him a hand." The tall guy in the green didn't bat a fake eyelash, just nodded and went to work. "Francesca, get back on the phones, get the mayor's office and find out how much of the city's in trouble. I want to know if we're getting backup or if we need to be the backup."
Kowalski, God bless him, had a solid grip on essentials and was checking that everyone who had a gun could actually shoot, and that everyone who could shoot had ammo. Fraser had checked both of them closely for scratches, down to investigating the clothes to make sure nothing had torn through. Another time the constable's attention to detail was paying off. The wolf was fine, although he'd gone and stuck his nose over the coffee pot for half a minute. (Hadn't drunk any of it, and despite Huey's bitching, no one had complained about any hairs in the coffee.)
Diefenbaker did whine a protest and cover his nose with a paw when Fraser said, "Leftenant. The only documented proof is for the West Indies/Caribbean variety, which--"
"Short version, Constable." Welsh looked at Fraser sternly.
"Understood, sir. We can't be sure they're dead, rather than drugged and/or infected."
Kowalski didn't break pace handing out boxes of ammo and marking it down on his clipboard. Bean counters were a damn nuisance everywhere, even during outbreaks like this. Last thing they needed was an audit by some undead guy who just wanted all the forms to tally and wasn't going to lie down until they did.... "Zombies, Fraser. The ones after us weren't just shambling -- pieces fell off. They were rotting, Fraser, so they're dead. Just ask Dief."
Dief yapped a sharp agreement and trotted over to put his paws up on the sill of a window that wasn't boarded up yet. Another one of the young drunks Huey and Dewey had arrested was wearing an eye-searing violet and surprisingly tasteful stage makeup. He sounded much more sensible than the spike heels made him look as he asked, "You have a wolf that understands English and you're having trouble believing we're under attack by zombies?"
"He's also conversant with French and Inuit," Fraser said absently. "And yes, Dief, granted, she didn't bleed when she… came apart, but you didn't even try to roll in the carrion--" The newly sober gentleman went green, clashing with his dress; Dief whined a protest. "No, I still remember that squirrel last week, Deifenbaker."
"Fraser, her arms fell off. She's either dead or gonna be," Kowalski said grimly. "Right. Any civilians, head upstairs if you're not helping with the windows down here. Fraser, come sign this so you're legal to carry in Chicago. You're our best rifle shot, we're gonna want you up on the roof. Anybody who's got 20/20 vision or better and is willing to play eyes from the roof corners, say so."
Francesca turned from her desk. "Mayor's office says the sightings are all along the river so far, Lieutenant. We'll have backup soon, but don't expect any yet, and try not to get the city a lawsuit. The mayor's issuing a curfew over the radio and TV any minute now. Rumor says the lawyers are going zombie first, which just figures somehow--"
"Lawyer stories later, Francesca. Go start coffee, please." She nodded, face a little tight, and Welsh said more gently, "Any answer from your mother?"
"They've got the doors and windows blocked and went upstairs and turned the lights out, she said." Frannie swallowed. "She'll be okay. Maria's there and she's a mean hand with a skillet."
Welsh nodded. "I don't doubt that in the slightest." Her smile firmed at that and she went to the break room, maybe even to make coffee.
Dewey moved Dief, who whined and headed for front door, and started boarding up the last ground floor window. "What gets me is, it's still August. Shouldn't this be happening at Halloween?"
"Are we going to go through this again at Halloween, you mean," Dewey said, then called, "McGuire, crack the door, let Dief have room. He'll smell them coming before we will."
Fraser came over, hands reassuringly familiar with the pistol he was holstering. Kowalski had his glasses in hand and rifles for both of them. "Nonetheless, sir, and meaning no insult to the citizenry of Chicago, or their viewing habits--"
"Constable," Welsh said firmly. "Hollywood has a lot to answer for. I know. We're putting police on the front lines because working in the precincts gives us experience at not shooting Chicagoans just for being annoying."
"That's God's own truth," Huey muttered.
Welsh went on without missing a beat, "Anyone who comes at us and can answer basic questions without the answer being brains, we'll either give 'em shelter, point 'em to shelter, or if we have to, we'll set up a quarantine. If they can't give a good answer and Dief thinks they smell wrong, then we're going to protect the civilians upstairs."
Kowalski nodded. "If they're dead, Frase, they're dead. We're here to serve and protect. Best we can do for the dead is bury 'em later. If we get rioters trying to hide here, we won't have time to see who's breathing. Until then, it's you and me up top, buddy. We'll check for breathing before we shoot anyone."
Fraser rubbed an eyebrow with his thumb, frowning, but he finally nodded. "We'll do the best we can, yes. Understood, Ray. My apologies, Leftenant."
"Stressful situation, Constable," Welsh reassured him. "But your best is plenty good enough for us. Is the Consulate boarded up?"
"It is, sir, and Inspector Thatcher is, at this time, ably seconded by not only Constable Turnbull but also by Constable MacKenzie as well." Fraser was a little tight still, but he said firmly, "Constable MacKenzie is a fine officer and an excellent shot. The inspector couldn't ask for better."
Faced with shambling zombies, not even Turnbull would dither, so Welsh just nodded. "Good that she's got two people on hand. We can make a run to pick 'em up if you think the building won't hold."
"It's solid, sir, and Inspector Thatcher is most competent."
Welsh nodded. "She'll do, yes. All right. I'm counting on you to be the voice of sanity up top, Constable -- not that there's much sanity in this precinct at the best of times --" and he eyed the remnants of the drag competition they'd been booking when word broke out, the two mimes who'd staged a fight too effectively, and old Marge who'd been brought in (again) for spooking people by hearing friendly voices, "while I keep some sense and sanity down here."
Fraser nodded, not quite smiling, but relieved. "I'll do my best."
"You always do, Constable. Occasionally to my despair. Just keep something in mind, please. Our founding fathers talked about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness and they put them in that order for a reason. Let's worry about keeping our people alive and uninfected. We'll get to liberty right after that, and the pursuit of happiness is their problem."
Kowalski snorted. "Sure. Until they're publicly drunk or interfering in someone else's liberty."
He and Fraser went down the hall to the stairs side by side and arguing again in their usual daily sniping.
And Lt. Welsh went back to holding together his precinct and hopefully, from there, his small section of the city.
~ ~ ~ finis ~ ~ ~
Author's note: Yes. Welsh and I both know that 'life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness' is from a US document. But we're pretty sure that Fraser agrees with that general principle.
Original post on Dreamwidth | Leave a comment on DW | Read
comments on DW
spook_me, even if I did come up with this idea for last year's challenge...
Also available at the AO3.
Not Fall To Pieces
"Huey, get that window boarded up better than that. You, in the bright green dress, give him a hand." The tall guy in the green didn't bat a fake eyelash, just nodded and went to work. "Francesca, get back on the phones, get the mayor's office and find out how much of the city's in trouble. I want to know if we're getting backup or if we need to be the backup."
Kowalski, God bless him, had a solid grip on essentials and was checking that everyone who had a gun could actually shoot, and that everyone who could shoot had ammo. Fraser had checked both of them closely for scratches, down to investigating the clothes to make sure nothing had torn through. Another time the constable's attention to detail was paying off. The wolf was fine, although he'd gone and stuck his nose over the coffee pot for half a minute. (Hadn't drunk any of it, and despite Huey's bitching, no one had complained about any hairs in the coffee.)
Diefenbaker did whine a protest and cover his nose with a paw when Fraser said, "Leftenant. The only documented proof is for the West Indies/Caribbean variety, which--"
"Short version, Constable." Welsh looked at Fraser sternly.
"Understood, sir. We can't be sure they're dead, rather than drugged and/or infected."
Kowalski didn't break pace handing out boxes of ammo and marking it down on his clipboard. Bean counters were a damn nuisance everywhere, even during outbreaks like this. Last thing they needed was an audit by some undead guy who just wanted all the forms to tally and wasn't going to lie down until they did.... "Zombies, Fraser. The ones after us weren't just shambling -- pieces fell off. They were rotting, Fraser, so they're dead. Just ask Dief."
Dief yapped a sharp agreement and trotted over to put his paws up on the sill of a window that wasn't boarded up yet. Another one of the young drunks Huey and Dewey had arrested was wearing an eye-searing violet and surprisingly tasteful stage makeup. He sounded much more sensible than the spike heels made him look as he asked, "You have a wolf that understands English and you're having trouble believing we're under attack by zombies?"
"He's also conversant with French and Inuit," Fraser said absently. "And yes, Dief, granted, she didn't bleed when she… came apart, but you didn't even try to roll in the carrion--" The newly sober gentleman went green, clashing with his dress; Dief whined a protest. "No, I still remember that squirrel last week, Deifenbaker."
"Fraser, her arms fell off. She's either dead or gonna be," Kowalski said grimly. "Right. Any civilians, head upstairs if you're not helping with the windows down here. Fraser, come sign this so you're legal to carry in Chicago. You're our best rifle shot, we're gonna want you up on the roof. Anybody who's got 20/20 vision or better and is willing to play eyes from the roof corners, say so."
Francesca turned from her desk. "Mayor's office says the sightings are all along the river so far, Lieutenant. We'll have backup soon, but don't expect any yet, and try not to get the city a lawsuit. The mayor's issuing a curfew over the radio and TV any minute now. Rumor says the lawyers are going zombie first, which just figures somehow--"
"Lawyer stories later, Francesca. Go start coffee, please." She nodded, face a little tight, and Welsh said more gently, "Any answer from your mother?"
"They've got the doors and windows blocked and went upstairs and turned the lights out, she said." Frannie swallowed. "She'll be okay. Maria's there and she's a mean hand with a skillet."
Welsh nodded. "I don't doubt that in the slightest." Her smile firmed at that and she went to the break room, maybe even to make coffee.
Dewey moved Dief, who whined and headed for front door, and started boarding up the last ground floor window. "What gets me is, it's still August. Shouldn't this be happening at Halloween?"
"Are we going to go through this again at Halloween, you mean," Dewey said, then called, "McGuire, crack the door, let Dief have room. He'll smell them coming before we will."
Fraser came over, hands reassuringly familiar with the pistol he was holstering. Kowalski had his glasses in hand and rifles for both of them. "Nonetheless, sir, and meaning no insult to the citizenry of Chicago, or their viewing habits--"
"Constable," Welsh said firmly. "Hollywood has a lot to answer for. I know. We're putting police on the front lines because working in the precincts gives us experience at not shooting Chicagoans just for being annoying."
"That's God's own truth," Huey muttered.
Welsh went on without missing a beat, "Anyone who comes at us and can answer basic questions without the answer being brains, we'll either give 'em shelter, point 'em to shelter, or if we have to, we'll set up a quarantine. If they can't give a good answer and Dief thinks they smell wrong, then we're going to protect the civilians upstairs."
Kowalski nodded. "If they're dead, Frase, they're dead. We're here to serve and protect. Best we can do for the dead is bury 'em later. If we get rioters trying to hide here, we won't have time to see who's breathing. Until then, it's you and me up top, buddy. We'll check for breathing before we shoot anyone."
Fraser rubbed an eyebrow with his thumb, frowning, but he finally nodded. "We'll do the best we can, yes. Understood, Ray. My apologies, Leftenant."
"Stressful situation, Constable," Welsh reassured him. "But your best is plenty good enough for us. Is the Consulate boarded up?"
"It is, sir, and Inspector Thatcher is, at this time, ably seconded by not only Constable Turnbull but also by Constable MacKenzie as well." Fraser was a little tight still, but he said firmly, "Constable MacKenzie is a fine officer and an excellent shot. The inspector couldn't ask for better."
Faced with shambling zombies, not even Turnbull would dither, so Welsh just nodded. "Good that she's got two people on hand. We can make a run to pick 'em up if you think the building won't hold."
"It's solid, sir, and Inspector Thatcher is most competent."
Welsh nodded. "She'll do, yes. All right. I'm counting on you to be the voice of sanity up top, Constable -- not that there's much sanity in this precinct at the best of times --" and he eyed the remnants of the drag competition they'd been booking when word broke out, the two mimes who'd staged a fight too effectively, and old Marge who'd been brought in (again) for spooking people by hearing friendly voices, "while I keep some sense and sanity down here."
Fraser nodded, not quite smiling, but relieved. "I'll do my best."
"You always do, Constable. Occasionally to my despair. Just keep something in mind, please. Our founding fathers talked about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness and they put them in that order for a reason. Let's worry about keeping our people alive and uninfected. We'll get to liberty right after that, and the pursuit of happiness is their problem."
Kowalski snorted. "Sure. Until they're publicly drunk or interfering in someone else's liberty."
He and Fraser went down the hall to the stairs side by side and arguing again in their usual daily sniping.
And Lt. Welsh went back to holding together his precinct and hopefully, from there, his small section of the city.
~ ~ ~ finis ~ ~ ~
Author's note: Yes. Welsh and I both know that 'life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness' is from a US document. But we're pretty sure that Fraser agrees with that general principle.
Original post on Dreamwidth | Leave a comment on DW | Read
comments on DW