dS snippet: "Containment Breach"
Fandom; Characters: due South; Detective Jack Huey
Rating: PG
Word Count: 300
Challenge: Written for the ds_snippets Zombie Challenge #105, prompt: wail
Author's Notes: Written for akamine_chan, because she begs so prettily. Thanks to my betas, js_cavalcante and Steven.
Summary: 'Asylum' meets the zombie apocalypse. Not cheerful.
A siren wailed in the distance. Soldiers deployed rapidly from a dozen black Humvees, forming a defensive perimeter that covered both the Consulate and deserted street. Agent Carson got out of the car. I followed him up the stairs and knocked on the door.
It opened immediately. I flinched back, but it was just Fraser. He was clean-shaven, wearing a fresh uniform, and still looked dog-tired. “Detective Huey,” he greeted me.
Carson shouldered past me. “I understand you’re harboring a fugitive,” he said.
“Really?” Fraser’s polite smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“It’s a zombie,” Carson said.
“He,” Fraser corrected sharply, “And I would prefer a less derogatory term for those afflicted with Kampala Syndrome. My government has decided not to cooperate with your ‘containment policy.’ If you have public safety concerns, you’re welcome to station guards across the street. On U.S. soil.”
Carson pushed forwards as if to force the door. Fraser stood unmoving, staring him down. After a moment, Carson turned away, pulling out his satphone. Fraser started to close the door.
“Kowalski.” I asked, stepping up. “Is he …”
Fraser shrugged tightly. “As you might expect.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” my voice cracked. “I had to tell them.”
Fraser nodded. “No need to apologize. In extraordinary circumstances, each man must follow his duty. And his heart. It’s been an honor serving with you, Jack.” He held out his hand.
I shook Fraser’s hand, then saw the shape under his jacket. “You’re carrying.”
“It’s Ray’s,” Fraser said. His voice was tainted with a strange, dangerous laughter. “I had to confiscate it. We have strict gun control laws in Canada.”
“Okay,” I said, backing away. “But are you carrying it for us out here, or Kowalski in there?”
A muscle tensed in Fraser’s jaw. “Neither,” he replied, and closed the door.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 300
Challenge: Written for the ds_snippets Zombie Challenge #105, prompt: wail
Author's Notes: Written for akamine_chan, because she begs so prettily. Thanks to my betas, js_cavalcante and Steven.
Summary: 'Asylum' meets the zombie apocalypse. Not cheerful.
A siren wailed in the distance. Soldiers deployed rapidly from a dozen black Humvees, forming a defensive perimeter that covered both the Consulate and deserted street. Agent Carson got out of the car. I followed him up the stairs and knocked on the door.
It opened immediately. I flinched back, but it was just Fraser. He was clean-shaven, wearing a fresh uniform, and still looked dog-tired. “Detective Huey,” he greeted me.
Carson shouldered past me. “I understand you’re harboring a fugitive,” he said.
“Really?” Fraser’s polite smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“It’s a zombie,” Carson said.
“He,” Fraser corrected sharply, “And I would prefer a less derogatory term for those afflicted with Kampala Syndrome. My government has decided not to cooperate with your ‘containment policy.’ If you have public safety concerns, you’re welcome to station guards across the street. On U.S. soil.”
Carson pushed forwards as if to force the door. Fraser stood unmoving, staring him down. After a moment, Carson turned away, pulling out his satphone. Fraser started to close the door.
“Kowalski.” I asked, stepping up. “Is he …”
Fraser shrugged tightly. “As you might expect.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” my voice cracked. “I had to tell them.”
Fraser nodded. “No need to apologize. In extraordinary circumstances, each man must follow his duty. And his heart. It’s been an honor serving with you, Jack.” He held out his hand.
I shook Fraser’s hand, then saw the shape under his jacket. “You’re carrying.”
“It’s Ray’s,” Fraser said. His voice was tainted with a strange, dangerous laughter. “I had to confiscate it. We have strict gun control laws in Canada.”
“Okay,” I said, backing away. “But are you carrying it for us out here, or Kowalski in there?”
A muscle tensed in Fraser’s jaw. “Neither,” he replied, and closed the door.