(no subject)
Title: Contingency Plans
Author: lilyayl
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3622
AN : Thanks to kaitou_lili for the beta and suggestions.
Summary: Penny is eating pie at the boys' apartment when the world starts to end (except that it really doesn't). Includes zombies. This is my reply for the January prompt. I did not forget the stork, by the way. Capek is a Czech name that means 'little stork.' Honest.
Prompt: January: A stork, a pair of mittens, and a green apple.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original plot is the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. (NOTE: This disclaimer was stolen from adenosinatri )
Penny sat silently on the edge of the couch, eating her apple pie and watching the news. The guys bickered around her, talking about some geek minutiae that mattered to no one except themselves, and had not noticed the special report cutting in mid-commercial break. She couldn't make out all the details; the boys were being too loud.
“Shut up,” she shouted, and pointed her loaded fork at the television. Sheldon started to grumble about how she was about to drop an apple onto the coffee table, but the moment his eyes hit the screen, he stopped.
“Oh,” he said. “That's not good.” Within a minute, the others were quietly exchanging theories and both Sheldon and Leonard were at their laptops seeking more information. Even Raj was talking. For some reason, that fact hit Penny the hardest.
“Don't panic,” the solemn newscasters said on the TV. Penny stood up.
“I need to call my mom.” She had her cell phone out and dialing in less than a minute. She stood back against the window, unwilling to leave and be alone.
“So far nine people have been reported as dead,” Leonard said.
“Out of how many infected?” Sheldon asked.
“Doesn't say.”
“Oh god,” Howard said. Penny glanced back at the television. A reporter and camera crew had gone to a local hospital to interview a centenarian on her birthday and were there still. The images were horrific. Penny covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. Her mother finally answered the phone.
“Penny? Honey. Are you okay?”
“I don't know,” Penny said.
In the future, after the nightmare is over, scholars, doctors, and epidemiologists all the over the world will bicker over how the disease originated, why it began in California, and how it spread. One popular theory will be that a boat from South America had carried diseased crew. Others will argue origination in China or in H5N1. Still more will say that blaming a variation of the common cold, or any virus, for the terrible disease is just silly and a waste of time. In the future this will be hashed out over coffee, through papers, and within classrooms. All of this debate, however, is less significant than the simple fact that it does happen. The world did not end.
“What is it?” Penny asked, back on the couch and her pie abandoned. She looked at the television through her fingers and felt like she was eight years old again and watching Psycho for the very first time. At least that had been fake. She had refused to bathe alone for several nights afterward, until her father made her watch the movie again scene-by-scene while he explained the special effects, the mood created by cut scenes, and how the actors faked fear and death. He pointed out the bendy knife and explained that most of the blood was really chocolate syrup. Her dad was no genius, but he could analyze movies like nobody's business. He had changed her fear to fascination and the next morning she had declared that she would become an actress.
Penny wished her father were beside her now, explaining away all the monsters on the television screen. “They don't even look human,” she said softly.
The reporter was carrying the camera himself through the halls of the hospital. On the upper floors, the din of panic from below was lessened. In the rooms were bodies, swollen black and red and covered in hard little bumps. Just the bumpy skin alone made Penny feel sick. One person was still alive, still groaning. His skin sloughed off in sheets to the floor.
Most people will eventually agree that it was a terrorist attack. The disease was too unique to be natural. It attacked first with a fever that came and went and lethargy. Then came the pock marks and a higher fever. Many died from dehydration. Others died from hemorrhaging caused by the pox. Then came the true terror.
“What is it?” Penny asked.
“Apparently not smallpox,” Sheldon said, not looking up from his laptop.
“But those are classic symptoms of the variola virus,” Raj protested.
“It may walk like a variola virus and talk like a variola virus,” Sheldon said, “but it is most certainly not a variola virus.”
“He's right,” Leonard said, looking up. “In fact these people think it might be a prion disease.”
Penny glanced between Leonard, Raj, and Sheldon, trying to decide if they were giving good or bad news. Her head was starting to pound.
Howard raised his hand. “Not to interrupt, but wasn't that guy dead a few minutes ago?”
All attention turned to the television screen. An old, gray-haired man who had been one of the first shown on the current segment of real-time hospital horrors was now standing and swaying beside his bed. The whites of his eyes were completely red.
Sheldon blinked and passed his computer to Penny. He stood up and went to the bookshelf. Penny twisted and watched him carefully run his fingers down one shelf and pull off a thick blue folder.
“What's that?” Penny asked.
He gave her a humorless smile. “Zombie contingency plans.” Sheldon muted the television and gave everyone a packet of papers. Penny was surprised to be included.
“We updated all of our files,” Leonard explained, “after Sheldon decided you were part of the group.” The emphasis he placed on 'all,' made Penny wonder just how many contingency plans Sheldon had written up. Leonard turned away from her. “They aren't zombies,” he added, protesting.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” said Sheldon, holding the blue folder to his chest. “I thought you said that the gentleman now lumbering out of his room there was certainly dead a few moments ago. Is that not typical zombie behavior?”
“He's just walking around, I'm sure--”
The old man lunged toward the camera and Penny shrieked. The television screen fuzzed out and then returned to the news anchors at the station. Penny felt like the room was tipping and spilling around her.
“Okay,” said Leonard. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Leonard, you take an inventory. Raj, you're on communications. Find out who else is still alive. Howard, barricade the windows.”
“What are you going to do?” Howard asked.
“Help Penny get supplies from her room,” Sheldon said. “All right?”
“All right. Fine,” the boys grumbled. Sheldon walked to the door and then looked impatiently back at Penny. Penny hurried to her feet, wiped her eyes, and followed him to her apartment.
The hospital will burn down. A brave woman, Dr. Amelia Gibson, will light the match herself. The police will take her into custody, but the sentence will never hold. She killed many innocents, but she also rid them of the worst of the scourge. The Los Angeles area was very lucky in that respect. In other cities the response took longer, the damage caused by the diseased spread further. Chicago, unable to gather all of their animate bodies in one location, had to burn down several whole neighborhoods. Though few liked her for it, Dr. Gibson would later justify her actions by scientifically proving that after a certain point, fire was the only answer.
“All right,” said Sheldon. “We need food, clothing, and entertainment.”
“Food is in the cabinets. I'll get clothes,” Penny said. She was still in a daze and her head felt fuzzy. She packed a small bag of clothes, enough to last several days, and hoped she wouldn't need more. In the kitchen, Sheldon had all her dry and canned foods arranged on the counter.
“I require a container,” Sheldon said. Penny tossed him a backpack.
Sheldon started to fill it, but then frowned and pulled out a slim book. His eyes widened when he saw the title. “R.U.R.?” He held up the script.
“Local play,” Penny said. “I was cast as Helena.”
“You're going to do this? On a stage?” Sheldon flipped through the pages, running his fingers over her highlighted lines. He seemed more excited than she'd thought possible.
“Next month from the 3rd to the 8th only,” Penny said. “R.U.R. by Karel Capek, starring Penny as Helena. Tickets $6 in advance and $8 at the door. Come one, come all.” She smiled and then yawned. Penny leaned back against a door frame. The room was lazily spinning.
“Penny? Penny!”
“Hm?” She felt his hands against her forehead and neck. They were cool and dry.
“Oh,” he said.
Penny woke on her own couch. Sheldon was sitting nearby. As she sat up he felt her forehead.
“The fever is cyclical,” he said. “You'll be fine for a while, now, but it will come back.” He gave her a glass of water. “Drink” he said. “You must not become dehydrated.”
Penny's throat felt dry and tight, and so she took the glass gladly. “Fever?” she asked.
“You're sick,” Sheldon said.
Penny sat up quickly, spilling some of her water. “No,” she said. She looked down at her arms, but they were still smooth.
“Not yet,” he said. “Come on.” He took the glass from her and sat it aside.
Penny pulled away. “I can't go,” she said. “I'll get you all sick.”
Sheldon made a frustrated noise. “Penny,” he said. “So far no one has been able to figure out how this particular disease is transmitted nor where it originated. If you are ill, then I and the others are likely already infected. If we are not, then we are unlikely to become infected, as long as we practice basic hygiene. Can you stand?”
“All right.” Penny stood. She grabbed Sheldon's sleeve for a moment when the change in altitude disoriented her, but let go as soon as she felt steady. “I'm good,” she said.
Sheldon frowned and shifted her bundle of clothing to one arm so that he could hold her arm, assisting her if necessary. They walked back to his apartment and he didn't make a single protest when Penny zeroed in on his seat and curled up against the arm rest.
“What took you so long?” Leonard asked.
Sheldon sniffed. Penny could imagine his look of disdain. “She's sick,” he said. “This is why you should have never broken up with Stephanie.”
“Right, because a zombie apocalypse was so very likely.” Leonard paused. “Wait, she's sick and you brought her back here?”
“Does she look like she can tend to herself?” Sheldon asked. He turned to Howard and Raj. “Is everything prepared?”
“All set,” Howard said. “No one is getting in or out these windows. The door is our only weak spot.”
Penny heard the unspoken 'we're safe' and fell asleep.
Penny woke up wet. She blinked. She was fully-dressed and in a bath tub. Her fingers were all wrinkly. Sheldon sat on the toilet seat beside the tub and was working at his laptop. He glanced at her.
“Oh, good,” he said. “You're awake.”
“Why am I in a bathtub?” Penny asked. She didn't feel dizzy anymore, but her back itched horribly. She leaned up and reached back to scratch it, but Sheldon grabbed her hand.
“Don't,” he said. The way he couldn't meet her eyes made Penny realize what must have happened.
“I've got them now, don't I?” Penny asked.
“Yes,” said Sheldon. “At least your fever is nearly gone. It spiked to a dangerous level earlier, hence the need for an external means of lowering it.” He released her hand and gestured to the bathtub.
“I see,” Penny said, understanding then. “How bad are the pox?”
“There are some on your neck and extending down beneath your clothing. If you scratch them, they will scar.”
“They itch,” Penny complained.
“I will get out the mittens if you try to scratch them again,” Sheldon said.
“Mittens?”
“My mother would force us to wear mittens if we wouldn't stop scratching rashes or scabs.”
“Did it work?” Penny asked. Sheldon nodded, obviously distracted. Penny skimmed her hands across the surface of the water and tried to ignore the itching along her neck, down her back, between her breasts, over her stomach-- she slapped the water. Sheldon started.
“Was that necessary?” he asked, moving his laptop further from her.
“I'm trying not to think about hard little bumps,” Penny said.
“Pink elephants,” Sheldon said. Penny started to ask him for explanation, but then he stopped her with a question. “What did you eat today?”
“A burger at work and a slice of apple pie. Why?”
Sheldon's fingers stilled. “The apple pie you had in our apartment?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Penny. “The one I brought over, but you all were too busy arguing to get a slice and eat.”
Sheldon sat back against the tank of the toilet. “That's it,” he said.
“What? A poisoned apple?” Penny asked, incredulously.
“Actually, yes. Several of the other cases have reported the consumption of fruit, especially granny smith apples, shortly before the presentation of a fever. Nothing so far suggests that the disease is actually contagious. If we can track the sources--” He slid a glance toward her and stopped. “Anyway,” he said, simplifying now, “it appears to be a case of food poisoning.”
Penny shook her head. “Poisoned apples. I feel like Snow White.”
“If only your cure were as simple as hers,” Sheldon said. He held her gaze a second too long and then resumed typing. In the silence that followed, Penny considered which of boys would have been the one to kiss her had the cure been that easy after all. Leonard was the obvious choice, since she had kissed him before, but she no longer felt any buzz from him. The cat had been alive, but also on its deathbed. There was no way in hell or on earth that she was ever going to let Howard kiss her and she imagined kissing Raj would be like sharing a quick peck with family. Sheldon, however... she gave him a long, measuring glance. He was an unknown quantity in her calculations, a closed box growling with potential.
“Where's everyone else?” Penny asked, hoping to change her mental tracks.
“Asleep,” said Sheldon. “It's well past midnight.”
“Then why are you still up?” Penny asked, surprised.
Sheldon favored her with a glare. “You were asleep in a bathtub. Someone had to keep watch to make sure you didn't drown yourself and lizard eats paper.”
“Right,” said Penny. She looked up at the ceiling of the bathroom. She wondered what was going on outside the apartment, if more people were sick, dead, and zombified. What would the guys do with her if she reached that stage? To ward off the thoughts, she started to run through her lines for her play and tried not to think about whether she'd ever actually get to perform it. “Mr. Domin, the managing director?” she said.
“At your service,” Sheldon muttered in response.
Penny shot him an odd look. “I've come to see you...” she said.
“… with the visiting card of Mr. Glory - no more need be said.”
“You know the lines?” Penny asked.
Sheldon looked up. “It's R.U.R., Penny. Karel Capek coined the term 'robot' in this play.” He said this as though it should explain everything and, to a point, it did. Robots were important and Sheldon had a crazy memory. Even so, Penny knew the play had a few different translations and was still surprised that he seemed to know the one she was using.
Instead of responding, Penny just recited her next line, “Mr. Glory is my father. I’m Helena Glory.” Though he did not infuse any emotion or extra meaning into his lines, Sheldon knew every word. He even corrected her mistakes along the way and she wasn't sure she appreciated that or was annoyed by it.
The disease, most felt later, was probably transmitted through food, especially fruit. Certainly, it was not communicable between people or animals. Of those infected, thirty percent died. Half of the dead began moving again and attacking anyone around them. Ten percent of the infected only experienced a mild rash and recovered fully and quickly after presenting, as long as they did not fall prey to fever. Over 10,000 uninfected people died due to attacks or fires. The disease's reign only lasted for 48 hours, disappearing as mysteriously as it came.
Penny sat on the couch, her hands clad in mittens, and watched the news. Sheldon had already tossed out her apple pie and gone to bed. She expected the other guys to wake up soon. CNN was showing a hospital burning in LA. The bumps on her body still ached, but they did not bother her as much as they had initially. Penny supposed the cream Sheldon had given her was actually helping. The city looked like it was falling to pieces, but then, the footage cut to a young woman with curling red hair. The woman was a first year band teacher who had saved her students from a zombified Spanish teacher while on a field trip. The teacher, Cecily Tate, ended her interview by having her students get out their instruments and play Ode to Joy. It was the silliest, most inappropriate thing ever and Penny was surprised to realize she was crying.
By that evening, Penny felt completely recovered. Even the bumps were softer and barely raised from her skin. They still itched though. Penny barely kept herself from wriggling against the couch back in attempt to relieve the healing pox. Frustrated, she stood up.
“Sheldon, do you still have some of that itch cream?” she asked.
Sheldon looked up from his conversation with Leonard. “Yes, in the bathroom cabinet. Also, it is not an 'itch' cream. That cream is a specially blended cortis--”
“Itch cream,” Penny said. “Come with me. I need someone to spread it on my back.”
Howard stood up. “I can spread the cream,” he said, leering.
Penny blinked twice at him and then looked away. “Sheldon,” she said. “You owe me for the vaporub.” She crossed her arms and met his gaze in what she knew would turn into a juvenile staring contest, not that she would be mature and look away, of course. She refused to lose.
Sheldon sighed. “Very well.” He stood and followed her into the bathroom.
“Shut the door,” Penny said, once they were inside. “I don't want Howard peeking.”
Sheldon shut the door and withdrew the cream from the cabinet. Penny raised her shirt, baring her back to him. He worked methodically, spreading the cream smoothly and evenly over her back and shoulders. His touch was light, cool, and relaxing. She closed her eyes, opening them only when his fingers brushed against the strap of her bra. She glanced to the mirror. Sheldon's concentration was completely upon her.
“All done,” he said. For a moment, Penny was tempted to pull her shirt off all the way and ask him to do her chest as well, but instead she let him help her lower her shirt. The itching was already fading. Penny turned, suddenly aware of closely she was standing to Sheldon. He had the weirdest look on his face.
“You can go now,” she said softly. “I'll do the front myself.”
“Front,” Sheldon repeated and his eyes slid downward so quickly that Penny was uncertain she hadn't imagined it. He stepped back. “Don't use too much,” he said.
“I won't,” she promised and she closed the door behind him.
By the next morning, the city declared the state of emergency at an end. No new cases were coming in. The zombies were under control. Sheldon let them leave the apartment.
Sheldon walked with Penny back across the hall. “You don't need to do this,” Penny said. “I'm really all right now.”
Sheldon looked back at his own apartment and then turned to her. He pressed six dollars into her hand. “Buy me a ticket,” he said in a low voice. “Please.”
Penny leaned back against her door and looked up at him. “Sure thing, but--” she folded the money back into his hand-- “my treat. Consider it thanks.”
“For what?” Sheldon asked. The fact that he couldn't even understand why she might be thankful to him for not freaking out when she'd gotten sick, researching without stop, keeping her from drowning, and even running her lines with her made Penny smile. Then she realized she was still holding onto his hand. She slipped from his grasp slowly and opened the door behind her.
“Get some sleep, Sheldon.” Penny stepped back, closed her door, and turned the lock. The sun was still rising outside. She pulled a stool over to her window and watched the morning tip-toe in. The ending soliloquy from her play flashed through her head. The lines weren't hers, but the actor who spoke them infused them with such vitality that Penny had memorized them as well as her own. “Life will not perish,” she whispered to herself, and she slid off her stool. She had friends and family to reassure and check on. Life was once again moving on.
“Life begins anew, it begins naked and small and comes from love; it takes root in the desert and all that we have done and built, all our cities and factories, all our great art, all our thoughts and all our philosophies, all this will not pass away. It's only we that have passed away. Our buildings and machines will fall to ruin, the systems and the names of the great will fall like leaves, but you, love, you flourish in the ruins sow the seeds of life in the wind. Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes ... for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation ... seen salvation through love - and life will not perish!” ~Alquist, Act 3 of R.U.R. by Karel Capek.