Psych Big Bang: The Revised Zombie Survival Guide
Title: The Revised Zombie Survival Guide
Characters/Pairings: Shawn, Gus, Lassiter, Juliet (slight Shawn/Lassiter, slight Shawn/Juliet, hints of Gus/Juliet, hints of Lassiter/Juliet)
Word Count: 25,072
Rating: R (for themes of death and violence)
Warnings: Character-death (from the beginning), zombies, some violence
Artist: nescienx - thank you very much for the amazing art!
Summary: The outbreak of a mysterious virus is causing the dead to return to life. With a zombie apocalypse now fact and not fiction, Shawn, Gus, Lassiter and Juliet must try to survive in a strange new world.
Huge thanks to ditchwitchbitch who did an amazing beta job and frankly kept me sane through this whole thing. Without her there would be no fic.
The Revised Zombie Survival Guide
Dedicated
to
Henry Spencer
The bravest man we ever knew
"Shawn, do it!"
Henry's voice was loud and firm. The same tone that had told him a few hundred times growing up that his dad knew what he was talking about. That Shawn should do as he was told.
His finger slid against the trigger. "Dad..."
"Shawn..." That was Gus, two feet behind him, keeping watch, waiting for Lassiter and Juliet, who would be here in two minutes. Two minutes and they could deal with this and he wouldn't have to.
"I can't," Shawn said, just as firmly, just as stubbornly as he had in response to that tone of Henry's every time he'd used it, since Shawn had turned eight.
"Yes, you can." Henry was determined.
Shawn glanced down to the blood dripping down onto the floor. Thousands of memories assaulted him at once and he shook his head. "Stop it. No. I'm not going to shoot you."
"Shawn..." Gus sounded worried. That meant they were getting close. Just a couple of minutes.
"Shawn, you have to get out of here," Henry told him, sounding far too calm and rational for someone bleeding profusely from the bite wound on his arm. "I don't want to hurt anyone. You have to do this. You have to do it now."
His hand wasn't shaking but it felt like the rest of his body was. "Please, dad, please..."
"I'm proud of you, Shawn. You need to go and help your friends. Stay alive."
# 5. Planning is all well and good, but when it comes down it, you'll have limited options. The perfect scenario only exists in your head. What vehicle you drive, what weapons you have, what direction you're headed - you can't control any of that. So stick with the people you trust and work together.
The echo of the gunshot startled Shawn awake.
Gus mumbled in his sleep beside him, but didn't wake up. Shawn looked around, wondering how long he'd managed to sleep this time.
Lassiter was watching him from across the room. He didn't bother asking what he'd been dreaming about. Shawn nodded anyway and got carefully to his feet.
"What time is it?"
"Five-thirty," Lassiter answered, glancing towards Juliet who was curled up on what used to be Chief Vick's couch. She'd have to wake up soon, Shawn knew. Lassiter always let her sleep longer than she asked. But then she did the same for him, so neither ever complained.
"You should sleep now," Shawn told him, though he knew it was useless. Lassiter slept less than Shawn these days.
"They took the Mission last night," Lassiter said quietly when Shawn got close enough that Juliet and Gus wouldn't be disturbed.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Now there was only the station left. Twenty people left in all of Santa Barbara. It didn't take a genius to work out what would happen next.
"We have to move," Lassiter was saying. "We're not safe here. We need to get out of town."
"And go where, Lassie?" Shawn said, trying to keep his voice calm and quiet. "They've closed all the borders. Even if we get out of town, they're still out there. They're everywhere."
"So, what? We should just sit here and wait to die?" Lassiter's voice got louder. Shawn could hear his anger and frustration; could feel it radiating from him in waves. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't really anyone's fault.
Juliet jerked awake and looked around, confused for a moment. Shawn could see when the memories of where she was and why returned. Her face, soft in sleep, hardened and she straightened her shoulders.
"What's going on?"
Shawn missed the days when Juliet's voice was light and playful. He missed her laugh, her smile. It was funny to think that was only a couple of weeks ago.
Gus groaned and rolled over, waking as soon as his head slipped from the cushion and hit the floor. "What?"
Lassiter glared at Shawn, who glared back.
He really hated it when Lassiter was right.
"We have to go."
“Go where?” Gus asked, getting quickly to his feet and moving closer to Shawn.
“North,” Shawn answered, just as Lassiter said, “South.”
Gus glanced from Shawn to Lassiter as they rounded on each other.
“This is not up for discussion, Spencer,” Lassiter said, his voice even and firm. “We need to go somewhere hot and damp. We’ll take a boat and go south.”
Juliet was nodding in agreement. Even Gus looked convinced.
“Bodies decompose quicker in that climate. If we could find somewhere defensible, we can survive until this is over.”
"How long is that going to be, exactly?" Shawn asked. He watched as Lassiter's hand flexed into a fist and thought that maybe, if he tried really hard, he'd actually get punched in the face this time. "How many zombie apocalypses have you lived through?"
Juliet was between them in an instant. "Okay, that's enough. Both of you. Shawn, you know it makes sense at least to take a boat. They can't swim. It's an extra line of defence."
“Then take my dad's boat,” Shawn said, ignoring Gus’ frown and looking Lassiter straight in the eye. “Go south. Stay together. Don’t get killed.” He paused before adding, “Don’t let Gus get killed.”
“And where are you going?” Gus asked, sounding as angry as Lassiter looked.
“I need to find my mom.”
Shawn knew it was selfish. They all had family, most of whom they hadn’t been able to save. But none of them had had to shoot one of their parents in the head, so Shawn figured he was allowed to be selfish this time.
Lassiter clearly didn’t see it that way. “You don’t even know if she’s alive and you want us take a road trip to God knows where to find her?”
“No,” Shawn argued. “I’m telling you I’m going and you should stick to your plan and stay alive.”
"We're not going anywhere without you," Gus stated, folding his arms across his chest, daring Shawn, or Lassiter, to disagree.
"Shawn, please," Juliet said, trying to sound reasonable. "It's suicide. You don't even know where she is. She might have gone to the country, to the mountains. She could be anywhere. And even if she is still there, there's a good chance she's... infected."
"I know," Shawn said. "I know that. That's why I want you to go south. I'll find you again, if I make it..."
"Don't be ridiculous, Spencer." Lassiter cut him off, glancing back out into the main station where people were slowly starting to wake up. "We're all going. Though I'd like to make it clear from the outset that this is the stupidest idea you've ever had. And I'm placing the blame for its inevitable failure, squarely on your shoulders."
"Noted."
"We're going to need weapons." Lassiter said, and Shawn saw his hands tightening around the shotgun. "More powerful ones." He closed the door to the office and lowered his voice. "O'Hara, you need to organise these people. Tell them to head for the docks, take boats and head south. They're going to need to take provisions, but only what they can carry. They're going to have to split into groups. Take the biggest boats they can. They'll need to be searched first. Tell them to stay off the deck when they're in sight of land and keep the radio manned and on an emergency frequency. They need to get as far south as they can, but they'll only be able reach land at night and they're going to have to do it armed to the teeth." He stopped and sighed, looking around the room quickly. "Guster, stay with her. Don't open the doors until we get back, but be ready to go when we do. Spencer, you're with me.”
# 1. It doesn't matter what caused it. Maybe it's a virus. Maybe it's a Government experiment gone wrong. Maybe an alien spaceship crashed and a parasite is reanimating the dead. None of that matters. The dead shouldn't be able to move of their own accord. So be they zombies, vampires or Frankenstein's monster, stop thinking about why, and start thinking about getting the hell away from them.
"Spencer, I swear to God," Carlton said upon entering the station and being accosted by Shawn and Gus. "If you've dragged me down here on my night off for one of your little pranks..."
"Pranks?" Shawn said, clutching at his heart. "Lassie, you've wounded me. I'm wounded."
"You will be," Carlton growled.
"Shawn," Gus snapped, trying to drag his attention back to the reason for this rendezvous.
"Yes," Shawn said. "The spirits have called me here, to tell me that that bite on Alfie Taylor's leg was not an animal bite..."
Carlton huffed loudly, even as he followed Shawn down to the morgue. "For God's sake, Spencer. We've been over this. It was probably a dog or a cat, it's torn up so there's no way to tell for sure. It certainly wasn't a human, so can we just drop this?"
"Woody disagrees," Shawn said, pushing open the door to the autopsy room. "Don't you Woody?"
The room was empty, but there were signs of a struggle. Shawn took in the upturned table and tools strewn across the ground. There was a trail of blood leading into the next room.
Gus clapped a hand over his mouth and started to back away.
Carlton pulled out his gun and stepped in front of Shawn, signalling him to keep quiet.
Shawn stayed a step behind Lassiter, and they inched towards the door.
The window in the door gave them a view of the back of Woody's head as he worked. Shawn gave a sigh of relief and turned back to smile at Gus, who visibly relaxed. Carlton lowered his gun and pushed open the door.
"What the hell happened in here?"
Woody turned slowly at the sound of Lassiter's voice. His movements were halting and his body twitched unnaturally. His face, when Carlton finally saw it, was covered in blood, and his eyes were white and glassy. He gave an unnatural hiss at the sight of Carlton and started to shuffle slowly towards him.
Lassiter, instinctively, raised his gun again.
"What are you doing?" Shawn yelped, grabbing Lassiter's arm. "Are you crazy? It's Wood..."
He caught sight of Woody for the first time and felt his breath catch. His heart stopped.
"Lassie," he said, stepping back. "Lassie, is that...?"
"Get. Out. Now," Carlton said firmly.
Gus, who had only seen Shawn's reaction, was gone before Carlton had finished speaking.
Shawn and Lassiter continued to move backwards as Woody came towards them. Shawn took a second to be impressed that Lassiter's hands didn't shake.
"Maybe he's sick," Shawn said. "He could have caught something. Remember that episode of Community where they ate the bad taco meat? I've been trying to get you to look into that Mexican place on Laguna and..."
"Spencer," Carlton said calmly. "Get out."
"What are you going to do if I don't?" Shawn said, eyes fixed on Woody, who was still advancing. "Anyway, I still think he's just sick."
"Look at his neck, Shawn."
Shawn didn't really need to look, since his eyes had been fixed on it for what felt like hours, but it gave him something to focus on beside the fact that Lassiter had just called him Shawn and he never did that unless there was trouble or single malt whiskey involved.
The left side of Woody's neck was torn open and his blood covered the front of his white lab coat. The wound wasn't bleeding now, and Shawn was no medical expert, but kind of damage and severe blood loss meant Woody should have been occupying one of the slabs in the morgue, rather than stumbling through it towards them.
"He's dead," Shawn said. "Isn't he?"
Woody - or whatever it was - gave a ferocious sounding roar and lunged at them.
Carlton fired two shots and Woody's body crumpled to the ground at their feet.
"I think I'm going to throw up," Shawn said. "Lassie, what the hell is going on?"
For one brief second Shawn saw pure fear and panic in Carlton's eyes.
"Lassie?"
"I have to do a search down here. You find Guster, get upstairs and cordon off this area. No one in or out, do you understand?"
"You're going to have to come out," Shawn said. "How will I know you're not a zombie?"
They stared at each other for a minute, silently agreeing to pretend Shawn hadn't just said... what he'd said.
"Let's go upstairs, get Gus to stand guard and then we can search together. Safety in numbers. Are you with me?"
Carlton looked like he wanted to argue, but Shawn wasn't backing down this time. He grabbed Lassiter's arm and started to lead him back upstairs.
"I'm going to need a gun."
# 2. As Buffy once said - Weapons. Weapons. Weapons.
Carlton had a plan to survive every situation from getting lost in the woods to nuclear war. Some people - his mother and his ex-wife - thought he was over-zealous, paranoid and delusional. In reality he just liked to be prepared. Sure, the chance of him crash landing on a remote island with a small group of friends and or colleagues was minuscule, but at least he'd know what to do if ever did happen.
In the two weeks that had passed since that fateful night in the morgue, Carlton hadn't had a great deal of time to take any comfort in the fact that he'd planned for this. People he'd cared about had died, occasionally at his own hand. Preparing for an apocalypse was a lot more fun than the actual apocalypse part.
"Guns, guns, guns," Shawn muttered as he followed Carlton into the armoury. "Any preferences?"
"Just as many as you can carry," Carlton said, tossing him a bag. "Don't forget the ammo."
"You don't have to come with me," Shawn said after two solid minutes of silence. "I know it's a stupid idea. I know I'm probably going to get myself killed."
Carlton sighed. "Spencer, if you're trying to get me to disagree with you..."
"I'm not."
"Good, because this is insanity. You're putting all of us in danger. You're reckless and irresponsible."
"So why are you coming?"
"Because, as strange and annoying as the thought remains, I don't actually want you to get yourself killed. And if you think I'm traveling to South America with Guster complaining in one ear and O'Hara complaining in the other - complaining about you and how you being an idiot is somehow my fault - well then, you're an even bigger idiot than I thought. I'd rather be eaten by zombies."
"I thought we weren't using that word."
"Suck it up," Carlton told him, zipping his own bag and swinging a collection of rifles onto his shoulders. He was sure that once upon a time, that would have raised at least a smile. But Shawn never smiled anymore, and somehow that just made the whole insane situation worse.
Instead, Shawn nodded and hefted his overflowing bag into his arms. "Let's go."
# 6. Always take a minute to consider your options. Even the safest route will have obstacles. Be prepared to adapt.
The safest route out of the city was the Pacific Coastal Highway. Mountains on one side, the sea on the other and not much of anything between Santa Barbara and San Francisco.
"You missed the exit," Juliet said with a frown, pointing to the other side of the empty road. "Carlton..."
"We're not using that road," Lassiter said firmly, in a voice that brooked no argument.
Juliet hadn't been intimated by it for years. "It's a safer road," she argued. "There won't be any....one there."
The speedometer hit 110 and Gus made an agitated noise in the back seat. Both Lassiter and Juliet ignored him.
"For one thing," Lassiter said, in a tone that made Juliet want to slap him, "I can't go this fast on that road. Unless you want us to crash over a cliff into the ocean."
Juliet sighed, annoyed and frustrated, and worse still, knowing he was right.
"And for another," he continued, sounding slightly less patronising, "there's only one gas station until you get back to the 101. We're going to need gas."
Shawn was bouncing nervously in the back seat. From the corner of her eye Juliet could see his gaze flicking between the two of them.
The speedometer was pushing 120 now.
"Do we have to go this fast?" Gus asked, earning a snort from Lassiter.
"Yes. Calm down, Guster. I have been trained."
Juliet glanced back at Gus, who didn't look convinced, and gave him an encouraging smile.
Shawn started to hum danger music.
"Spencer!" Lassiter snapped, which only made Shawn hum louder. Gus seemed to relax though and he rolled his eyes.
Juliet reached out and put her hand on Carlton's knee. His glance at her said 'I'm sorry' and her smile in return, 'Forgiven.'
~
They made it to Maricopa before the gas ran out.
It was a small town. Gus thought that it had probably fallen pretty quickly after the outbreak started. With any luck, all the inhabitants had started out towards Bakersfield for fresh... Gus' stomach rolled and he scrambled out of the car as soon as it came to a stop, dry heaving beside the pump until Juliet's hand started to rub his back and Shawn knelt down beside him and passed him some water.
Lassiter ignored them and started to fill the car, hissing at them to stop making so much noise and drawing attention.
"There's no one here," Shawn said, looking around.
"You don't know that," Lassiter snapped.
For once Shawn didn't argue and that, for Gus, was the scariest part of this whole thing.
If you discounted the zombies.
His stomach heaved again and Juliet murmured something about getting him something to help. As though Dramamine would cure zombies.
She pulled out her gun and checked it, patting him gently on the back as she got to her feet.
"Shawn, let's go."
"What are you doing?" Lassiter asked.
"We need food, Carlton. Water. First aid equipment." She focused her attention on Shawn and summoned up her most professional voice. "Nothing that will go bad within a day. Nothing with too strong a scent. Nothing too sticky or difficult to eat. Nothing with mint in it. Grab as much as you can - chips, chocolate, energy bars. I'll do water and medicine."
Shawn nodded, taking out his own gun. "Any requests? Gus? Lassie?"
"Yeah," Lassiter said, grabbing his arm. "Stay low, be quiet and hurry up."
Juliet and Shawn raced over into the building, leaving Gus sitting with his head resting against the pillar and Lassiter, ever vigilant, scanning their surroundings.
"Are you okay, Guster?"
Gus nodded, even though he wasn't. None of them were. He appreciated the effort though. "I get sick, riding in the back, that fast."
Lassiter nodded and then went back to the pump when it clicked to full. He topped up the car, then pulled out two gas cans from the trunk and started to fill those.
"I have to say, I'm impressed by the survival kit," Gus said, watching him. "We never would have made it this far without you."
Gus and Shawn's plan to survive a zombie apocalypse had been drafted up when they were fifteen and hadn't undergone any substantial changes between then and two weeks ago. Shawn had announced that they could take Henry's boat, a stockpile of food and a bunch of movies and wait it out. The government, he'd said, would have a strategy in place to deal with the problem and after a couple of weeks things would go back to normal.
In actual fact, the government had clearly considered the idea of zombies as stupid as the majority of the population and hadn't been prepared. If there was any government now, Gus imagined they were safe in some nuclear bomb shelter while everyone else was left to deal with the threat.
And Gus could admit that if he had to bet on anyone surviving an apocalypse, Lassiter would be right next to Shawn at the top of the list. For one thing, Lassiter was much better prepared than anyone else had been. He'd laid out a plan and to his credit, he'd included Shawn and Gus in it. Gus sent up a little prayer of thanks that he hadn't abandoned them to head off down the coast alone.
He eyed the Motel 6 across the street with longing. "Where are we going to sleep tonight?"
Lassiter's mouth was pressed into a firm, thin line and Gus knew if it were up to him, they'd just keep driving. Even he had to sleep sometime though, and there was no way anyone but Lassie or Jules was driving that car.
~
The apocalypse, it turned out, was the one thing that movie makers got right with surprising accuracy. Long bouts of sitting around worrying, followed by heart-stopping moments of terror and despair.
Shawn had had plenty of time to ponder this during those long bouts of sitting around, waiting for something to happen. Once this was over, he was going to make a movie. He wondered if John Cusack was too old to play him. Then he wondered if John Cusack was still alive.
Juliet entered the building first, gun raised and ready to shoot at the first thing that moved. "Clear," she said a second later and pushed her gun back into the waistband of her pants. "Go," she said firmly, pushing him towards the food.
The silence was deafening. Shawn couldn't bear it for very long.
"Jules," he said eventually, his voice ringing loudly through the quiet store, "who would you want to play you in the movie I'm going to make about this?"
Juliet sighed heavily and Shawn wondered if she had finally reached her breaking point. She didn't tell him to shut up though, so he continued.
"I was thinking Taye Diggs for Gus, or maybe the Old Spice guy. He's cool."
He'd filled one basket. His second was half full. Juliet appeared behind him and started pulling bottles of water out of the fridge.
"Shawn, we don't have time for this."
"I think Lassie would want Clint Eastwood to play him, but he's far too old. I think we're looking for someone younger; strong and dynamic. You think Clooney could pull it off, or do you think he's too short?"
"Shawn," Juliet said again, but this time her voice was quiet and warning.
"And someone sweet but feisty for you... "
Juliet's gun appeared beside his face and Shawn froze. "Jules?"
"Start moving towards the door, Shawn," she said firmly.
Shawn looked over his shoulder and saw the... person, dead person, zombie... shuffling towards them from the back of the store. He dropped the bag of chips he'd been holding and reached for his gun.
"Shawn, I said move."
"And if you think I'm leaving you here alone, you really haven't been paying attention for the last five years," Shawn told her as he quickly glanced towards the door and then back at... it.
"What if there are more of them?" Juliet asked, stepping up to stand beside Shawn. "You have to get to the car. It's your mom we're looking for."
Shawn felt a pang of regret that he had put his friends in danger. "We're both getting out of here, Jules. You get to the door, I'll shoot it, and then we run."
He saw Juliet nod from the corner of his eye, then the faint sound of stifled gasp when another zombie appeared.
"Or we could both shoot, then run."
"I like that one," Julies said, switching her aim to the second body.
"On three?"
~
The gunshots actually made Carlton's heart skip a beat. He withdrew his own gun automatically, quickly stashing the filled gas cans in the trunk.
"Get in the car, Guster," he snapped, though Gus was already half inside.
He hadn't taken more than two steps towards the store, though, when the door burst open and Shawn and Juliet stumbled out, running at full speed towards them.
"Start the car!" Shawn yelled, just as a zombie appeared in the doorway behind them. "Lassie, start the car!"
Carlton threw himself across the hood in a move that any other time would have had Shawn and Juliet both whistling and cat calling, and had the car started in seconds. Gus pushed his door open enough to yank Shawn inside. Juliet turned as she reached the passenger door and levelled her gun at the thing.
It was too close, closer than any of them had gotten in a long time. She could feel its fingers brush against her shirt, scrambling for purchase.
The shot fired at point blank range and Juliet was immediately covered in blood and rotting flesh. She practically jumped the rest of the way into the car and Carlton tore out of the gas station as fast as he could.
"Oh my God," Juliet said, still shaking from the shock and adrenaline as she stared down at herself. "Oh my God, this is disgusting."
Gus made a noise from the back seat that sounded suspiciously like he was going to vomit.
Shawn, thankfully, rolled down his window.
# 3. Anyone who tells you they’re not afraid is lying. It’s okay to be scared.
Two emotions battled for dominance in Juliet's mind.
The first was pure, unadulterated fear. That one had been present for the last two weeks and she had been suppressing it as best she could, ever since Lassiter had given her a little shake on Day Two and told her he would keep her safe, she just had to remember she was a cop and his partner and not a snivelling, pansy-ass baby. She had punched him several times in the arm, until he'd smirked and raised an eyebrow at her, after which she'd punched him again and called him an asshole. She really did love him sometimes.
The second emotion was disgust at being covered in blood and bits of brain and dead skin. That was the one she decided to go with.
"This is the most revolting this that has ever happened to me," she said, carefully picking a lump of something red and squishy off her shirt with shaking hands. "And that includes the time you vomited on me."
Carlton glanced at her, his face scrunching up in a way that was always followed by an apology. Juliet wasn't sure if he was apologising for the zombie or the vomit, but she appreciated it all the same.
"We have to pull over," Shawn said as soon as the town disappeared from view.
"Are you kidding me, Spencer?" Carlton argued and Juliet thought he might have purposefully pressed down on the gas.
"Gus is sick," Shawn countered, his voice quiet and determined.
One look at Gus told Juliet that Shawn was not exaggerating. "Carlton, stop the car."
~
For the second time in an hour, Gus scrambled from the car, inhaling deeply in an attempt to stave off his nausea. Shawn was behind him in an instant, silently passing him what remained of the water.
"We're going to die, aren't we?" he asked after a long drink. "We're going to end up like that thing. Or eaten by it."
"Gus, don't be a startled mongoose," Shawn said, in what Gus thought was an overly light manner. "We're all going to be fine. We have Lassie and all his guns." Shawn pointed towards Lassiter who was leaning against the car, helping Juliet pick zombie entrails out of her hair, though if possible, he looked even more disgusted than she did. It wasn’t the look of strong reserve he’d been hoping for. “You’ve got red on you,” he told Juliet, in what he was pretty sure from her expression wasn’t a helpful comment.
"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever seen happen," Gus said, unable to tear his eyes away.
"I'm not particularly thrilled about it myself," Juliet said, flicking a piece of bloody flesh off her trousers.
"I can't ride in a car with that smell. I'm sorry. I have a very delicate system."
Lassiter rolled his eyes, but kept whatever thoughts he had to himself.
"I know you do, buddy," Shawn said, rubbing his hand over Gus' back.
"Well there's not much I can do about it," Juliet said, now wiping her neck with Lassiter's once pristine white handkerchief. "I mean, I can roll the window down, but I need a shower."
All three of them looked meaningfully at Lassiter, who sighed.
"Fine. We'll find somewhere tonight to rest. I want to get as far as we can before then, though. We're just wasting time otherwise."
# 4. Sleep is important. Food is important. You may not want them, but you will need them.
They crossed the border into Oregon at 9pm and Shawn breathed a sigh of relief when Lassiter turned off the road at the first motel they came across. There were only 12 rooms, forming an L-shape next to a gas station. It looked deserted to Shawn, but he knew better than to trust that instinct now. He’d been wrong too many times lately.
"O'Hara stay here with Guster," Lassie said as soon as he'd parked. "Spencer, with me."
He climbed out of the car, ignoring Juliet's protests, and Shawn hurried after him, not wanting to deal with either detective when they were in a bad mood.
"We need to search the rooms," Lassiter murmured, looking around for danger as he stalked towards the front office. "You three need sleep."
"We four need sleep," Shawn corrected, immediately looking back towards the car to avoid Lassiter's frown. "You look awful."
"Gee, thanks," Lassiter snapped back. "I thought I was here to keep your ass out of danger. I didn't realise I had to meet the Shawn Spencer Approval Rating for my appearance."
"Lassie, please," Shawn said, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "You know you always meet that. I just meant, you look tired. Hence the need for sleep."
"Spencer, we don't have time for this," Lassiter said, though Shawn noticed the faintest loosening of his shoulders. Whoever would have thought his teasing would make Lassie declench? That defeated the whole purpose of it.
They reached the office and, seeing nothing inside, quietly entered. Lassie withdrew his gun and indicated for Shawn to move around the room to check the other door while he checked the one closest to them. Normally this would have prompted Shawn to ask (loudly) what Lassiter was talking about, but for once he dispensed with the pretence that he didn't know, and did exactly as he was asked.
Both rooms were empty, which Shawn was grateful for.
"You think we'll be as lucky with the other rooms?" he asked, when Lassiter appeared behind him.
The car horn answered the question before Lassie could.
~
"Sir..."
There was a five minute period, once his mind had cleared of touching, heartfelt sentiment and he remembered he was alone, when Carlton considered running after Victoria and begging. He couldn't say exactly what stopped him. Maybe some newfound sense of pride or maybe he was just tired of running after someone who clearly would give anything not to be caught.
So instead he sat back down at the table and finished his scotch.
"Sir, we're closing now."
The waiter had very kindly refilled his glass three times once Carlton had mentioned the divorce, but clearly he was trying the patience of the remaining members of staff. They probably had families to go home to, Carlton thought as he drained the remainder and got to his feet. Loving husbands and wives. Children who would no doubt be tucked up in bed at... he checked his watch.
Midnight.
He made his apologies and left a generous tip on his way out.
Home was the last place he wanted to go. Big empty rooms, free from personal touches. It wasn't as though he spent a lot of time there. He worked so much. That was why he was alone. He couldn't drive anyway, not after drinking so much, so quickly, so he walked in the direction of the station, because that was the direction he was always headed.
Half way there he stopped, remembering he'd switched off his phone before entering the restaurant. He'd imagined that it would be a step towards proving to Victoria that work didn't come first.
There were a couple of emails he could reply to from the office and a voicemail from O'Hara. He dialled into his message service and started walking again.
"Hey, Carlton, it's me. I know you're with Victoria and you won't get this until late, but Shawn called about some missing girl up at the old Camp Tikihama site. He sounded a little freaked out, so I'm going to drive up and see what I can find. I hope it goes well with Victoria. I have my fingers crossed for you. I'll check in, in a couple of hours."
There was no follow up message, no text, no email.
At the station, McNab was working the night shift and he sat alone behind the front desk. He smiled at Lassiter and stood up to greet him. "I didn't think you'd be in tonight, boss."
"Have you heard from O'Hara?" Carlton asked, looking over towards her desk. "She went somewhere with Spencer."
Buzz shook his head. "I haven't heard from her. It's been a pretty quiet night."
Carlton nodded and turned on his heel, leaving as quickly as he'd arrived. He hurried back to his car, calling her cell phone as he did. The phone rang out, giving him the option of leaving a message.
He couldn't drive all the way out into the mountains if she was actually safe at home and simply hadn't checked in because there was nothing to report. If Spencer had been on some flight of fancy, or worse, trying to get her alone for a romantic rendezvous, there was no way she'd have called him back. She wouldn't have wanted to listen to his thoughts on Spencer. Not again.
Carlton drove to Juliet's house as quickly and as calmly as he could. There were no lights on, but it was almost 1.30 now. There was a good chance she was asleep.
A plaintive cry pierced the air and he spun around, looking for the source. The storm earlier had knocked over the trash can and, hiding under one upturned box, was Juliet's cat. Britta.
"Hey," Carlton crouched down beside the box. The cat was drenched and looked utterly miserable. "You look how I feel," Carlton said and he reached inside to pull her out. "It's okay," he said, pressing the cat to his chest and wrapping his jacket around her. "It's okay now, girl. Where's your mom, huh? Isn't she home yet?"
Carlton considered his options. Several scenarios presented themselves but neither leaving the cat out in the rain, nor having it run loose in his car seemed viable. Besides, he had an emergency key.
"Do you think this is an emergency, girl?" Carlton asked and Britta mewled mournfully. "Your mom would be so upset if anything happened to you. I'll take that as a yes."
~
Carlton raced back towards the car, with Shawn close behind him. He stared around the parking lot, looking for whatever it was that had made O'Hara panic and, seeing nothing, stopped beside the car and quickly pulled open the door.
Gus was in the driver's seat, arguing loudly with Juliet.
"It could have been a zombie," he stated emphatically, waving his hands in the direction of the windshield.
"It was a cat," Juliet replied, with a worrying amount of ferocity.
"It could have been a zombie cat..."
"Hey!" Carlton shouted, silencing them both immediately. "I am not going to play grown-up to you three for the rest of my life, however short I am currently wishing it to be. Get it together."
“I didn’t do anything this time,” Shawn said, but looked away sheepishly when Carlton gave him a withering look.
Juliet nodded curtly and slipped out of the passenger side door. Guster climbed out of car, giving Carlton a somewhat apologetic smile.
"Now we are all going to search this place. Twelve rooms shouldn't take more than ten minutes. O'Hara, you take the four rooms on the left. Spencer, take the four on the right. And take Guster with you."
With that he turned and started walking towards the remaining four rooms that made up the foot of the L-shape, wondering how his perfect plan for surviving the apocalypse had turned into glorified babysitting.
# 10. Time doesn’t stop even if it’s not that important anymore. Laugh when you can. Love when you can. You won’t survive if you don’t.
They finished the sweep in eight minutes and met back at the room they had parked in front of. Thankfully, it seemed the entire place had been deserted for some time. Shawn and Gus raided the snack machine, so they at least had some food. Juliet was just thankful for running water.
She stepped into the shower, closing her eyes as she turned her face into the spray and ran her fingers through her hair. She used a whole tiny bottle of shampoo making sure her hair was free of zombie brain, and a bottle of body wash scrubbing herself clean.
Then she started to cry.
It had been two weeks of mounting terror, wishing that she could go back to tracking down thieves and vandals and murderers - even serial ones - because as least there seemed to be some order to that. Even tied to the top of the clock tower, staring down at death, she had known what was happening and why, and had accepted the choices she'd made in getting there. But no one had any choice in this. Evil surrounded them and she was starting to think it would catch up with them eventually.
Juliet tried to stifle her tears, not wanting to draw the attention of the others. Gus was scared, Shawn was traumatised and Lassiter had shut down every emotion. She wasn't going to create more problems by having a breakdown. She just needed to get it all out of her system.
~
"I'm fine," she said for the twentieth time, when they were finally back on the ground and the Chief was standing over her and watching while the paramedic checked her over.
"You're not fine," the Chief assured her, once she had the all clear.
"Chief..."
"Go home. Come in tomorrow to give your statement."
Juliet wanted to give her statement there and then. Her body was still throbbing, blood pounding with fear and adrenaline. She wasn't going to sleep. Possibly ever again.
"Chief..."
Carlton was beside her in an instant. He'd never been more than two feet away from her since the roof and his presence was unusually calming.
"Carlton, I'm fine," she said, even as she jumped when he touched her elbow. "I want to give my statement now. We have to find him."
Something in his eyes flickered at that and he nodded, guiding her gently towards his car. "I'll drive you home. You can make your statement to me."
That seemed like the best option Juliet was going to be given, so she relented, pleased for the silence of Carlton's car and glad that he was behaving like himself, when everything else in the world seemed suddenly upside down.
She stared out of the window, trying to catch up with her own thoughts. They were parked outside of Carlton's house before she realised they'd set off.
"Did they get Abigail?" she asked suddenly, wondering if she'd been told earlier. Had Gus told her? He'd been talking a lot. Smiling a lot. Happy she was safe. Shawn was happy she was safe. He was with Abigail. They got to her in time.
She sighed and nodded before Carlton had a chance to answer. "Yeah. Good. Good."
Carlton led her inside, oddly careful not to touch her. She'd flinched earlier, hadn't she? He should know better.
"Do you want a drink?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer before pouring two glasses of scotch. He downed one and refilled it, before pushing the other into her hands. "Drink," he ordered. "Sit."
She drank and she sat.
"Food?" he asked, moving towards the kitchen.
"No," she said quickly, pressing a hand to her stomach. The very idea made her feel ill. "Don't go."
It was a stupid thing to say. Far too revealing. She wanted to take it back but it was out, and it was true, so she stared him down. Carlton had frozen, confusion written in every line of his face and muscle of his body.
"I'm serious," she said. "Please."
He relaxed just as quickly, but she knew him well enough to know it was faked. He shrugged out of his jacket and pulled off his tie, then collapsed down onto the sofa, leaving a whole arm's length of space between them.
"Do you want to give your statement now?"
Juliet fell just the tiniest bit in love with him.
~
All three men froze when the first muffled sob reached them from the bathroom.
Shawn and Gus shared a look, while Lassiter stared at the closed door, none of them entirely certain what to do next.
"Someone should go and see if she's okay," Shawn said eventually, earning an annoyed snort from Gus and a look from Lassiter that would have turned lesser men to stone.
"Are you seriously going to use the apocalypse as an excuse to seduce Juliet?" Gus asked and Shawn grimaced because that hadn't even crossed his mind.
Much.
"Is it an apocalypse?" he asked instead of answering. "I thought that was the end of the world."
"You don't think this is the end of the world?" Lassiter asked, momentarily distracted from defending Juliet's honor with his death glare.
"An apocalypse is actually a disclosure of something hidden from the majority of mankind," Gus recited, causing a moment of irritated harmony between Shawn and Lassiter.
"Guster," Lassiter growled warningly.
"It means the end of the world too."
"Seriously," Shawn interrupted, getting back to the matter at hand. "Someone needs to go in there and make sure she's okay. Gus?"
Gus shook his head. "I don't know what to say. I'd quite like someone to comfort me right now."
"Lassie?" Shawn said, unable to deal with two distressed friends at the same time. "You want to make sure she's okay, while I remind Gus that he's thirty old years old and not five?"
"Fine," Lassiter sighed, straightening his shoulders. "But I blame you for every bruise she gives me."
~
"Just a minute," Juliet called when Carlton knocked on the door.
He looked across the room at Shawn who gave him a wave, directing him into the bathroom. He cleared his throat and gripped the door handle.
"I'm coming in."
Juliet was still behind the curtain in the bathtub, for which Carlton was supremely grateful.
"Carlton, please," Juliet sighed. "I'm fine. Just give me five minutes."
She's turned the shower off, so Carlton assumed she was done. He unfolded one of the large bath towels from the rack and held it up and out towards her, closing his eyes.
"Here," he said and then after a moment added, "I'm not looking."
There was some rustling of the shower curtain and another sigh. Carlton had learnt to stand his ground where O'Hara was concerned and he ignored her. One foot hit the floor, then the other, and then she'd stepped close enough that he could wrap the towel around her.
"You can look," she muttered after taking the towel from him. "I don't need to be coddled, Carlton. I'm fine."
She raised her head to look him in the eye and he nodded curtly, then wrapped his arms around her.
It It took five seconds for her to loosen up and wrap her arms around him in return. Then she closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Did you create a virus that infects the dead and turns theminto flesh eating zombies?"
"No," she said with a snort and he smiled against her hair. "I'm sorry I'm not as strong as you are."
Carlton wasn't surprised by the words, or her belief that he was some sort of emotionless automaton, even if she should know better.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt, just a little bit.
"I wish I didn't have to be," Carlton whispered honestly, tightening his arms around her. "But we all have our roles to play." He looked down at her and smiled. "Why do you think I haven't killed Spencer yet? He's the plucky comic relief."
Finally, Juliet smiled and a laugh bubbled up, loosening the tight knot that had formed in Carlton's stomach.
"And Gus?"
"As close to a medical expert as we're ever going to get," Carlton said, leaning back against the sink, with his eyes closed once again, while Juliet dressed.
"And me?" she asked, amusement in her voice once again.
"You're the heroine," Carlton said simply. "You have to make it."
"Carlton..."
"No, no," he said, holding up his hand. "I've had this planned since I was sixteen. Granted we're going in the wrong direction, on a fool's errand, but I'm not letting some zombies beat me, or you, or those two idiots in there. We are getting through this alive."
"Yes, Sir," she said and he opened his eyes to find her grinning at him, hand raised to her head in salute.
"Don't mock me."
"I'm not," she said, stepping close again and kissing his cheek. "Thank you."
Part 2