Baron Saturday Visits Cardiff: 7/?
Fandom: Torchwood
Title: Baron Saturday Visits Cardiff
Chapters: 7/?
Length (words): 5575 this chapter / 27,707 so far
Series: (Yep. Eventually. No title yet.)
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Spoilers eps 2x6 Reset, 2x7 Dead Man Walking. References through seasons 1 and 2. Set between eps 2x11 Adrift and 2x12 Fragments.
Alerts: Action! Adventure! Hurt/Comfort! Angst!
Summary: Something's gone wrong with Jack and now the living undead are walking the streets of Cardiff. How did this happen? How will the Torchwood Three team handle it? Will Owen join the ranks of the zombie forces or find a new reason for living? All this, and more!
This Chapter: PC Andy joins the team, argues with Gwen, and fights zombies!
Beta: Thanks to demotu for keeping Gwen from dissolving in a puddle of OOCness. Thanks also to
caladria for keeping Andy from sounding American.
Previous Chapters: Here
Chapter Seven
“It’s probably a good thing alien races seem to lose all this useful stuff or we’d be hunting the zombies down with rubber band shooters and spit wads, hoping they’ll develop a fatal allergy to human saliva.”
Saturday, March 22, 2008, 3:15pm - The Millennium Centre
PC Andy Davidson got out of his car and looked around.
“Just come to the Millennium Centre Andy; we’ll collect you,” he grumbled to himself. “It would be easier if they just put in a proper front door. Really, it’s not as if they’re a secret organization, even Rhys knows about them.” On the word ‘secret’, Andy lifted his hands and wiggled them in a gesture he usually reserved for the word ‘spooky’. If anyone had been paying attention, or watching him on camera, he would have looked quite odd. Without any idea of where to go, Andy began walking towards the fountain, figuring a large landmark would make orienting himself simpler when he got the directions. Just as he reached it, his mobile phone rang. Checking the ID, he answered.
“Well, I’m here. Where do you expect me to go now? You don’t have a secret lift inside the fountain, do you?”
There was a short laugh from the other end of the line, then Harkness said, “No, but close. I need you to turn around, and then walk forward about six steps.”
Andy rolled his eyes and scanned the area. It was a bright sunny day, rare for this time of year, and the temperature was cool, but not cold. There were a few people out enjoying the afternoon and strolling through the Plass. Cautiously, he followed the instructions. He didn’t want to appear foolish by counting his steps like he was searching for pirate treasure and the spot marked X.
“I’m here. Don’t think you can keep me walking up and down like an idiot. If you’re taking the mickey out of me, you should know I’m incredibly patient and you can’t hide - wherever you’re hiding - forever.” Andy felt it was important to let Harkness know he wouldn’t stand for any shenanigans.
“I’d ask if you really thought that little of me, but I’m afraid you’d tell me the truth. Walk two steps to your right and stand in the middle of the paving stone, arms at your sides, and don’t move.”
Feeling more than a little foolish, Andy complied. Before he could ask whether he’d be expected to spin in a circle and hop on one foot next, the paving stone beneath his feet started to drop. Andy fumbled his phone, juggling frantically to keep it from falling. Grasping it firmly at last, he stood stock still as the paving stone descended. ‘Lovely,’ he thought. ‘The main entrance is actually a gaping hole on a civic thoroughfare, and they think they’re being subtle.’
Looking into the strangest room he’d ever seen, riding a paving stone, he was tempted to swear simply because moments like this called for it. His Gran, however, had often complained that 'swearing just for its own sake was the sign of a weak mind'. Such a pronouncement had usually been followed by Andy’s father swearing, and a magnificent row, which usually took place in the kitchen, his Gran’s favorite room. Andy’s childhood had been interesting, if somewhat combative. The skill necessary to duck bits of flying crockery stood him in good stead with his chosen profession.
As the lift stopped, Andy continued to look around and up…oh hell. His mind provided the word “pterodactyl”, but the rest of him just stood there gaping as the impossibly out of place creature soared about the impossibly huge room and landed on a ledge to crawl into what was presumably it’s nest. Did pterodactyls nest? His eyes narrowed as he looked at the phone in his hand. The connection had already been cut, so he locked the keys and stuck it in his pocket. He could ask Harkness about pterodactyls, among other things, when he found him.
“About done? Good. Jack told me to show you in. Just so you know, it wasn’t my idea to ask for your help.” The speaker was a thin man with a narrow face that Andy recognized as Harper somebody or somebody Harper, who usually appeared when Torchwood was called in. Andy didn’t bother answering him.
“Right,” the man said, jerking his head past the fountain to a set of stairs. “This way, Davidson.”
“After you, Harper.” Andy was pleased by the hitch in Harper’s step when he called him by name. ‘Start as you mean to go on’ was another of his grandmother’s sayings. He had no intention of letting any of these Special Forces tossers get the better of him, even if Gwen was a member of their team.
They’d only taken a couple of steps towards the fountain - Andy was amazed by the size of the thing underground - when Harper held up a hand and came to a stop, putting a finger to his lips. Andy heard voices over the sound of the flowing water and stopped beside Harper, curious.
“Jack, you can’t,” Gwen’s voice carried quite well. “He’s…he’s just Andy! He doesn’t understand how dangerous it is.”
Harper glanced at Andy and smirked. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.
“Gwen, it’s already done. He’s here. Trust him.” That would be Harkness.
“Why Jack? Why do you trust him? You don’t know him as well as I do.” Gwen was pleading.
‘Well, and there you have it,’ Andy thought. 'What Gwen Cooper - Williams - really thinks of one PC Andy Davidson.’ He was beginning to wish he hadn’t come here today.
“Maybe I know him better than you do,” Harkness responded. “Maybe I’ve known men like him before. I trust him enough to let him try. If this works out the way I think it will, I’ll trust him to watch my back. More importantly, I’ll trust him to watch yours.”
“Jack,” another voice spoke, quieter, more controlled. “You should know Owen and PC Davidson are over by the fountain. I expect Owen got lost again. Perhaps we should consider pinning his name and address to his shirt in the future.”
Harper winced and started walking again, leading Andy towards a set of stairs. “I was just letting the new boy look around Jack. Invisible lifts, pterodactyls, giant bits of wonky machinery - there’s a lot to take in.”
The stairs let out onto a working platform with a couple of computer stations and an office to the right; a battered sofa, a coffee table, and a couple of end tables comprised a sitting area against one wall. The décor was lacking, but the technology was top of the line. Harper sat down at one of the work stations, and turned his chair to watch the others - a pretty Asian woman, a youngish man Andy had never met before, and the infamous Captain Jack Harkness - who were all gathered around the coffee table working on a couple of large, hard-shell backpacks and some odd machinery. Gwen stood off to one side, arms crossed in front, looking uncomfortable.
“Owen,” warned Harkness, “not funny. We’ll talk later.”
Owen just shrugged, looking unconcerned.
“Andy, welcome to Torchwood. I’d stand, but it’s against doctor’s orders.” Harkness gestured behind the sofa to the IV bag duct taped to the wall. Taking a closer look, Andy noticed the pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps he’d been ill. It would explain why they needed extra manpower. With any luck it would also explain why Harkness was wearing a pair of loose fitting sweat pants, but no shirt. ‘Right. Note to self, check Torchwood dress code before Monday.’
“This,” Harkness continued, “is Ianto, Toshiko, Owen, and you already know Gwen.” He gestured at each of his team in turn, and then pointed at the equipment laid out on the coffee table. “Tosh figures we’ll have these ready to go within the hour. It’s a good thing I’m handy with my tools.” The young man - Ianto - shook his head at this.
“Jack,” Ianto warned, quietly.
“You can call me Jack,” Harkness said, ignoring Ianto and stretching a hand out to Andy, who reached over and shook it. “Great. Why don’t you and Gwen bring over some coffee? She can fill you in while we’re working.” Jack smiled at him, motioned to Gwen, and then turned his focus back to the tools and whatever it was they were all working on.
Gwen looked like she wanted to argue, but instead, she straightened up and motioned towards another set of stairs. “Come on then, I’ll show you where the coffee is. Lucky for us, Ianto’s already made some. All we’ll have to do is serve it.” As she got close to him, she whispered, “We need to talk.”
Glancing at the others, noting how Owen’s eyes were fixed on him, Andy held his peace until he and Gwen had reached the small coffee area. There, he grabbed Gwen’s arm and pulled her around to face him.
“What was all that about? You don’t trust me?” Andy wanted to know. He needed to know.
“Of course I trust you! Don’t be ridiculous,” Gwen protested.
“So I’m ridiculous now, am I?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You implied that you didn’t trust me. What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re supposed to think I know more about this than you do. This isn’t like police work. It’s dangerous working for Torchwood.”
“Don’t try telling me it’s safer being a PC. One of my friends died today! He didn’t work for bloody Torchwood.”
“Trust me, this is different!” Gwen winced at her choice of words.
“It seems to me that trust is a fairly one way street for you Miss Cooper.” Andy leaned back against the railing. He hoped she’d remember they’d been friends longer than she’d worked here, longer than she’d known Rhys. “Tell me what you meant when you said those things. Are we still friends?”
Gwen settled beside him against the railing, looking away. Andy studied her profile as she began to talk.
“The first day I worked here, I set loose an alien that killed people, innocent people. It was my fault. Since then, the world’s nearly ended, I’ve been shot, Rhys has been shot, my friends, that lot down there, have all almost died - it never stops! I don’t want you to have to go through all that.”
Oh, so that’s what this was about. Andy really should have expected something like this. Gwen was always looking out after everyone. Even when they’d been in school together, she’d always tried to take care of him: helping him study, inviting him over for dinner, always making sure she had a little extra to share with him. He loved her for it. Always had, always will. She was a beautiful woman with a beautiful spirit, except for one thing. Gwen never knew when she was wrong, until it was too late.
“Gwen,” Andy spoke softly and nudged her shoulder with his, “look at me?” When she turned to him, he continued, “Do you remember when we were fifteen? I seem to recall that we’ve already had this argument, and I won.” He watched her carefully. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. What I do is up to me, my choice. I get to keep my victories and my failures, all you get to do is celebrate the one and pick up the pieces after the other. Right?”
“What pieces? Torchwood doesn’t leave pieces! Suzie Costello died the first day I found out about this place. She worked here. Do you know where she is now?” Gwen pivoted to face him, thrusting her arm over the railing, pointing down. “She’s in a drawer in the wall, down there with all the other dead employees. You don’t leave Torchwood, ever.”
“Then why are you here? Why do you stay? You’ve got Rhys to think about.”
“Because they need me. What we do is important. You don’t know - ”
“Of course I don’t! Not if you lot won’t tell me. If this work is so important, then let me help.” Andy straightened and faced her, reaching out a hand to gently touch her shoulder.
“You don’t realize what you’re asking,” Gwen pleaded. “I won’t lose Rhys and I won’t lose you either.”
“It’s not your choice to make! I’m not a child. Whether I work here or not is between Jack and me. You can like it or lump it.” Pulling his hand back, Andy turned to lean over the railing. He could almost hear Gwen fuming behind him.
Heaving a sigh, Gwen finally settled next to him again. “I’m not going to change your mind in the next ten minutes, am I?”
“No,” Andy said, smiling. “You’re not. Give up?”
“No! I’m regrouping.”
“Right. Procrastinating more like. By the time you’ve regrouped we’ll both be pensioned off and living on an island somewhere.”
“I don’t think anyone gets pensioned off from Torchwood,” Gwen said, her voice quiet and sad.
“Here now, none of that. Want to borrow my hanky so you can go off and have a good cry?”
“I am not going to cry,” Gwen stated indignantly.
“Are you sure? I think I see a tear, just there,” he lifted a finger to point towards her eye, “just a small one. Maybe - ow!” Andy rubbed his arm where Gwen had smacked him. “Maybe not. Feel better?”
“A little,” she said. “I just wish I could believe you knew what you were getting into.”
“Give over! I’m here. You’re just going to have to get used to it. We can schedule arguments on the subject for Monday afternoons, if you like. Right now, my job is to protect Cardiff and its citizens. I suppose protecting them from zombies has got to be better than protecting them from drunken wankers down at the pub on Saturday night. Cleaner anyway.” Andy bumped her shoulder with his own, trying to ease the tension.
“Cleaner,” Gwen joked, giving him a small smile, “is all relative at Torchwood. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve had to crawl through.”
“Oh, what a surprise. Is it really that different from working as a constable?”
“At least I knew most of the things on the pub floor came from this planet,” she protested.
“Not what you said then.”
“Well, it was orange vomit. Remember how we used to ask them what crisps they’d eaten to get it that color?”
“And that would start them off again? Orange everywhere. Only funny when it was someone else’s car.”
Gwen began to laugh and Andy joined her. A voice from below interrupted them.
“Oi!” Owen called. “If you girls are about finished up there, why don’t you bring the coffee down here?”
Still chuckling, Gwen leaned over the railing and called, “That’ll be decaf for you then, Owen?”
“Don’t you dare! And make sure it’s from the pot Ianto made,” Owen replied. “Fucked if I’m up to drinking that swill you call coffee today.”
Gwen shook her head and began filling the coffee mugs.
“Would anyone mind if I killed him and hid the body?” Andy asked conversationally.
For some reason, this caused Gwen to laugh so hard she nearly dropped one of the mugs. Between bouts of giggles, she muttered something about “wouldn’t be the first time”, but refused to explain what she meant.
“You’ve become a complete nutter Gwen Cooper,” Andy said.
“Williams,” Gwen corrected firmly.
“Don’t remind me.”
Still grinning, Gwen handed him the tray to carry down to the others.
~*~
Saturday, March 22, 2008, 4:30pm - The Hub
22032008 - 1630
Mainframe Alert: Z3
Number of Zombies Detected: 329
Number of Zombies Dispatched: 292
Number of Zombies Remaining: 37
Number of Players: 6
Add New Player (y/n)
Scores
Dead-boy: 0
Oversexed Git: 0
Gwen: 0
Toshiko: 0
Tea-boy: 0
PC Andy: 0
Andy stood still as Toshiko checked the straps on his pack, making sure they’d hold without impairing his movement. While she worked, Andy considered the things Gwen had told him about life energy, sudden surges, and zombies. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe it. He was sure she was holding back some information. There was something odd about where the power surge had originated but, when he’d asked, she’d promised to fill him in later. She’d proceeded to explain the tracking system to him, given him a comm and a quick lesson on use of the equipment and communications procedures.
Jack had given him precise instructions on how to handle himself in the field, before giving all of them a mission briefing. It was more like going to war than police work had ever been. He would have been insulted if he’d sensed even one iota of condescension in his new employer, but he didn’t. It seemed that Jack genuinely wanted all of them back in one piece, and each carefully worded order was intended to enforce that objective.
These giant rifles - Ganthian Rifles, Toshiko had called them - had been modified so that their targeting mechanisms would focus on the particular frequency of energy that the zombies were emitting. They were attached to the hard-shell backpacks via power conducting cords that looked like rubber hoses. While he was holding the Ganthain Rifle in both hands, and wearing a large, though surprisingly light, pack, Andy felt sillier than he ever had in his life. He looked like one of those people who dressed up in outlandish gear and attended conventions with Klingons and Elves. Looking over at Owen, whom Toshiko had fitted first, Andy realized that the power packs and guns reminded him of something.
“I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” he said. “I’ve got dibs on Spengler. You can be Venkman if you’d like.”
Owen looked at Andy, and then looked at himself. “No. No, no, no, no, no! I did not sign up to be made a fool of in public.”
Tosh smiled. “You look very seventies Owen.” She gave a last pat to Andy’s gear. “You’re done. Just hold on a moment. I’ve got a little something for the two of you.” Tosh retrieved a couple of homemade stickers from her work station. With a grin, she peeled the backing and smoothed one onto Andy and one onto Owen. It was the Ghostbusters ghost with the “no ghosts allowed” symbol. Andy grinned. At least the Torchwood team seemed to get his jokes.
“Tosh,” Owen whined, “is this what you meant by uniforms?”
“Well,” she replied, “it’s as close as we’re going to get. Now, listen up you two.” Tosh motioned them both closer to her. “These rifles have a very heavy draw. They take a lot of power to shoot. Normally, you only get between four to six shots before their power is drained completely and they need to be recharged. By hooking them up to the Numidian power generators, we’ve given each rifle closer to two dozen shots before both the rifle and the generators are drained.”
Tosh held up a small device that Andy recognized as the hand held scanners they’d be using. “I have one of these for each of us, two per team, just in case the team members get separated.”
“Don’t let that happen,” Jack ordered. “Stay together. Stick close to each other. So far, the zombies haven’t exhibited anything beyond the ability to drain your life force via touch. That doesn’t mean they won’t surprise us.”
“These,” Tosh continued, again holding up the scanner, “will not only help us to track the zombies, but they can keep track of the amount of energy remaining in each rifle. Like this,” she touched a symbol on the screen and it changed to show a set of power bars, “and like this.” Tosh changed the screen back to its original set up, and then passed out the devices to each of the team members.
“Tosh and Owen, you take the SUV. Gwen and Andy, you’ll have to take the patrol car.” Jack tossed a set of keys to Tosh, while Andy looked at Jack in surprise.
“What?” Jack asked. “We’ve only got the one SUV.”
“Oh fine,” Andy said, “and I thought I’d got a job offer from a real secret agency. I suppose you’ll have to budget the coffee money in order to afford my salary? It’s probably a good thing alien races seem to lose all this useful stuff or we’d be hunting the zombies down with rubber band shooters and spit wads, hoping they’ll develop a fatal allergy to human saliva.” With a heavy sigh, he turned to Gwen. “Well, come on then. How about you drive since I have to shift this lot everywhere we go?” Andy handed Gwen the keys, indicating the rifle and power pack with a wave of his hand. “It might not be heavy, but it’s awkward.”
“Right, we’re off,” Gwen said briskly, before looking back at Jack and Ianto. Owen was waiting while Tosh went over something with the two men. Andy caught the name “Blevins” and wondered what she’d managed to find out about the missing zombie.
“Jack,” Gwen called softly, “are you and Ianto going to be all right here?”
Jack looked straight at Gwen with a warm smile. “We’ll be fine. Ianto’s just going to pop down and sort out our sensor problem, and then we’ll keep track of our rogue zombie until you four get back. I promise to keep in touch. I’m going to be monitoring all of you, but Tosh is going to be monitoring me. I’ll keep her informed. Now, go on. You and Andy have the farthest to drive. I’ll send you the address and explain after you’ve gotten to the car.” With a quick wave of his hand, Jack turned back to Tosh.
“Come on,” Andy lead the way back to the odd paving stone. “I’ve got to assume this is only one of the ‘secret’ entrances your ‘secret’ organization has. Hard to haul furniture in this way, I’d think.”
“We’ve got others and I promise to show you all of them,” Gwen stated as the paving stone started to ascend.
Andy gazed around, still amazed by the Hub. “You honestly mean to tell me that no one has ever noticed people appearing and disappearing like rabbits in a magic show? You’ve never had one cat tumble down the gaping hole in the walk?”
Gwen laughed. “The perception filter works very well. Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I suppose. But really, only one SUV? You’ve never had to split up, cover more than one address, take two teams out to hunt zombies? I’m just picturing you lot hoping out of a taxi trying to look impressive while tipping the driver.”
“You’d be surprised what we’ve managed to pull off. Where’s the car?”
Andy led them to his vehicle. While Andy stowed the gear, Gwen contacted Jack on her comm.
“Jack, we’re ready for the address.
“Sending. It’s the most distant signal.”
“Why not take the nearest ones first,” Andy questioned. “Wouldn’t that be more practical?”
“Good question Andy. This one is in a thickly populated residential neighborhood, lots of families. So far, this signal has been fairly stationary. I want it taken care of before it goes hunting. Most likely it’s already fed, so you’re going to have corpses. We’re going to be facing a lot of clean-up on this one.”
“We’re on our way. You and Ianto be careful,” Gwen ordered.
“Yes Mom.”
Gwen started the car and began the long drive into the outskirts of Cardiff. It was a Saturday afternoon, so traffic wasn’t too heavy, but it would still take about half an hour to get to the neighborhood. The time went quickly as they caught up with each other’s lives. It had been a couple of years since they’d actually spent this much time together. Well, except for the whole Flat Holm incident and Andy wasn’t ready to breach that subject yet. He and Gwen had made a tentative peace, and the next few hours were bound to be dangerous. There’d be time enough to sort that mess out later.
By 5:00pm they were parking in front of a nice home, having reached the address. Andy quickly shrugged into his pack, instinctively noting the manicured lawns and tidy landscaping. Ominously, the front door stood ajar, and he could just see fresh drag marks in the grass by the drive.
“There’s still a signal from inside. Jack,” Gwen spoke into her comm, “we’re going in.”
“Confirm. Use caution.”
“Yes Mum.”
“Gwen…” Jack warned.
“Right, sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“We’re fine,” Andy said firmly, trying to reassure both Jack and Gwen. “In we go, on three, just like on the telly.”
Gwen pushed the door open, gun drawn, while Andy entered first, rifle charged and ready.
There was a short entrance hall with a small coat closet, the door open slightly. Andy checked inside before shutting it firmly. No zombies, but two large coats and three in smaller sizes. Children. The house was too quiet, Andy realized.
“Who lives here? How many residents?” he asked Jack over the comm.
“Hold on. Records say the home belongs to Martin and Catherine Lloyd.” There was a pause. “Three children: Samuel, Todd, and Ivy. Andy, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for sending me out to do my job. We’re checking the rest of the house.” Andy motioned Gwen to one side as he moved up to peer in an opening. It led into the kitchen. A large, airy room with marble countertops and modern equipment, it was obviously maintained by someone who loved to cook. Andy noted the expensive, knife set, bread maker, and other bits of fancy equipment he’d never seen the use for himself. Off to one side was a set of bay windows, in front of which was positioned a table and chairs. Andy froze, and then turned to Gwen.
“Don’t -” he tried to tell her, but she pushed past him, stopping with a gasp.
“Oh no.” Gwen stared, wide eyed at the table. “Are they -”
Andy nodded, but went to check anyway.
The table was set for four, and laid with sandwiches, fresh fruit, biscuits and juice. At the four places lay four children, slumped over their plates. It was obvious to Andy that they’d been placed this way after they’d been killed. The burned and blistered skin on their cheeks indicated that a zombie had been the cause of death. Andy had seen burn marks just like these at the hospital.
Only a couple of hours had passed since his world view had been changed completely. He was beginning to understand what Gwen had been trying to protect him from. This wasn’t the sort of thing you would be able to shrug off at the end of the day and settle down to watch a football game with your mates. The world you lived in was too different from theirs. He moved forward and checked for pulses, even knowing what he’d find. Sometimes, all you could do was follow procedure. It was comforting, in a way.
The wide, staring eyes were normal on corpses, but it seemed so much like frozen horror on the small faces, that Andy was glad when he could turn away and shake his head at Gwen.
“Damn it,” she said softly, before turning back towards the opening, keeping watch.
“Jack, we’ve got four children dead in the kitchen,” Andy reported.
There was a moment of silence. “Confirmed. I’ll co-ordinate with local authorities. We’re blame it on some form of plague. Localized and contained.”
“Cover it up?” Andy asked, horrified.
“I doubt anyone wants to know the truth. It wouldn’t do them any good. Can we argue about this later?”
“How often do you cover up your own mistakes Jack? How often have people died because of Torchwood?”
“Andy, shut it!” Gwen ordered. “Not here, not now. We promised we’d tell you everything. You can decide later if we’re worse than the zombies and the aliens and all the other things we protect the world from, but for right now, just don’t.”
Andy nodded reluctantly. The comms had fallen silent. Gwen was right. He needed to focus on the job at hand.
“Later then,” Andy agreed.
Working together, Gwen and Andy proceeded to check the rest of the house. The downstairs was clear, so they cautiously proceeded up the stairs to the second floor. The children’s bedrooms were empty, thank goodness. When they reached the master bedroom, Gwen peered carefully around the doorframe, drawing her head back quickly. She jerked her head toward the room, indicating to Andy that there was someone - something - inside. Andy checked the rifle, and then slowly entered the room.
The bed was to the right. It was large, with a fluffy duvet made of some fine material and an expensive looking wooden frame and headboard. There was a man lying in the bed, under the covers. If it hadn’t been for the burns on his face and his staring eyes, Andy could believe he was sleeping. There were two chairs and a small table set in front of large decorative windows, a small reading area. A woman sat in one of the chairs, gazing fixedly at the bed. She looked up as Andy entered the room.
“Shh,” she said, “he’s sleeping.” She turned her eyes back to the man on the bed.
Andy moved out of the doorway, giving Gwen room to enter, never taking his eyes off the woman. “Catherine?” he asked. “Are you Catherine Lloyd?”
Without looking at him, she answered, “I was. He was my husband. Those were my children, except for Michael. He lives down the street. His mother, Alice, will cry and cry and cry.” She finally turned her head to face them. “I can’t anymore. I have no tears. Will you mourn for them?”
At Gwen’s choked gasp, the zombie, once Catherine Lloyd - wife, mother, daughter, and friend - stood and focused her gaze completely on them. Her skin was pale, the barest of flushes over her cheeks, but her eyes were far from dead. They were sharp, bright and dangerous. They reminded Andy of a nature special he’d seen once, studying the habits of predators. The zombies might be able to survive by consuming “life force”, but their humanity was slipping away.
“You’ll cry for them, won’t you love?” Catherine’s eyes were focused completely on Gwen now. “I’ve cleaned them, fed them, and put them to bed, but you’ll mourn them for me? I can see the tears in your eyes. You’ll give me your tears, then I’ll be able to mourn them. Just hold still…” Eyes fixed, unblinking on Gwen, Catherine stepped forward, moving slowly, inexorably towards them. Gwen stepped back and raised her gun; Andy didn’t have to think twice. Catherine Lloyd was no longer human.
Raising the Ganthian rifle to his shoulder, Andy pulled the trigger. There was a high pitched whine from the weapon, followed by a pulse of darkness that streaked from the rifle towards the zombie. He blinked and it was over, the zombie collapsing to the floor, utterly lifeless, while the sudden chill in the air caused him to shiver. Tiny, wet snowflakes fluttered down through the air wherever the darkness had touched, melting as soon as they reached the floor. The damp trail of tears led to the zombie’s corpse.
It was over for now, and for once PC Andy Davidson wasn’t going to be involved in the aftermath. Some other constable would be sent down the street to inform Michael’s mother that he was dead. Andy was working for Torchwood now, not sure if he liked it.
Cradling the heavy rifle in one arm, he gave Gwen’s hand a quick squeeze. She seemed shaken, but ready to continue.
“Jack, we’re done here,” she reported. “Two more dead in the master bedroom: Catherine and Martin Lloyd.”
“Confirmed. Head out to the next location.”
“Right,” she replied.
Solemnly, they left the house.
“It’s so sad,” Gwen said, sliding behind the steering wheel as Andy stowed his equipment. “That woman, her family, she was so sad.”
“Crocodile tears, or grief as the case may be.” Andy slid in beside her as she started the car.
“What do you mean?”
“She was sad, but it was more like - I can’t believe I’m going to say this - an echo of human grief. She was stalking you Gwen, distracting you with her sorrow. She noticed you reacted to that and used it to try and lure you in. The zombies are learning to hunt.”
Yesterday, Andy would have laughed if anyone had said that to him. He would have suggested a trip to hospital, or a long vacation. Today, Andy had become an employee of Torchwood. It was hard to think about all those others, stored in drawers back at the Hub. It was harder yet to think about becoming one of them some day. But, ‘a corner once turned can’t be unlearned’ his Gran had always said. He’d never understood that one, until now. No going back. If there were zombies out there, Andy was ready for them.
A/N: Ran a couple of days late with this update. Be patient, the next one might be a tad late as well. I've got to co-ordinate the next two chapters with each other. Tosh and Owen get center stage next!
Title: Baron Saturday Visits Cardiff
Chapters: 7/?
Length (words): 5575 this chapter / 27,707 so far
Series: (Yep. Eventually. No title yet.)
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Spoilers eps 2x6 Reset, 2x7 Dead Man Walking. References through seasons 1 and 2. Set between eps 2x11 Adrift and 2x12 Fragments.
Alerts: Action! Adventure! Hurt/Comfort! Angst!
Summary: Something's gone wrong with Jack and now the living undead are walking the streets of Cardiff. How did this happen? How will the Torchwood Three team handle it? Will Owen join the ranks of the zombie forces or find a new reason for living? All this, and more!
This Chapter: PC Andy joins the team, argues with Gwen, and fights zombies!
Beta: Thanks to demotu for keeping Gwen from dissolving in a puddle of OOCness. Thanks also to
caladria for keeping Andy from sounding American.
Previous Chapters: Here
Chapter Seven
“It’s probably a good thing alien races seem to lose all this useful stuff or we’d be hunting the zombies down with rubber band shooters and spit wads, hoping they’ll develop a fatal allergy to human saliva.”
Saturday, March 22, 2008, 3:15pm - The Millennium Centre
PC Andy Davidson got out of his car and looked around.
“Just come to the Millennium Centre Andy; we’ll collect you,” he grumbled to himself. “It would be easier if they just put in a proper front door. Really, it’s not as if they’re a secret organization, even Rhys knows about them.” On the word ‘secret’, Andy lifted his hands and wiggled them in a gesture he usually reserved for the word ‘spooky’. If anyone had been paying attention, or watching him on camera, he would have looked quite odd. Without any idea of where to go, Andy began walking towards the fountain, figuring a large landmark would make orienting himself simpler when he got the directions. Just as he reached it, his mobile phone rang. Checking the ID, he answered.
“Well, I’m here. Where do you expect me to go now? You don’t have a secret lift inside the fountain, do you?”
There was a short laugh from the other end of the line, then Harkness said, “No, but close. I need you to turn around, and then walk forward about six steps.”
Andy rolled his eyes and scanned the area. It was a bright sunny day, rare for this time of year, and the temperature was cool, but not cold. There were a few people out enjoying the afternoon and strolling through the Plass. Cautiously, he followed the instructions. He didn’t want to appear foolish by counting his steps like he was searching for pirate treasure and the spot marked X.
“I’m here. Don’t think you can keep me walking up and down like an idiot. If you’re taking the mickey out of me, you should know I’m incredibly patient and you can’t hide - wherever you’re hiding - forever.” Andy felt it was important to let Harkness know he wouldn’t stand for any shenanigans.
“I’d ask if you really thought that little of me, but I’m afraid you’d tell me the truth. Walk two steps to your right and stand in the middle of the paving stone, arms at your sides, and don’t move.”
Feeling more than a little foolish, Andy complied. Before he could ask whether he’d be expected to spin in a circle and hop on one foot next, the paving stone beneath his feet started to drop. Andy fumbled his phone, juggling frantically to keep it from falling. Grasping it firmly at last, he stood stock still as the paving stone descended. ‘Lovely,’ he thought. ‘The main entrance is actually a gaping hole on a civic thoroughfare, and they think they’re being subtle.’
Looking into the strangest room he’d ever seen, riding a paving stone, he was tempted to swear simply because moments like this called for it. His Gran, however, had often complained that 'swearing just for its own sake was the sign of a weak mind'. Such a pronouncement had usually been followed by Andy’s father swearing, and a magnificent row, which usually took place in the kitchen, his Gran’s favorite room. Andy’s childhood had been interesting, if somewhat combative. The skill necessary to duck bits of flying crockery stood him in good stead with his chosen profession.
As the lift stopped, Andy continued to look around and up…oh hell. His mind provided the word “pterodactyl”, but the rest of him just stood there gaping as the impossibly out of place creature soared about the impossibly huge room and landed on a ledge to crawl into what was presumably it’s nest. Did pterodactyls nest? His eyes narrowed as he looked at the phone in his hand. The connection had already been cut, so he locked the keys and stuck it in his pocket. He could ask Harkness about pterodactyls, among other things, when he found him.
“About done? Good. Jack told me to show you in. Just so you know, it wasn’t my idea to ask for your help.” The speaker was a thin man with a narrow face that Andy recognized as Harper somebody or somebody Harper, who usually appeared when Torchwood was called in. Andy didn’t bother answering him.
“Right,” the man said, jerking his head past the fountain to a set of stairs. “This way, Davidson.”
“After you, Harper.” Andy was pleased by the hitch in Harper’s step when he called him by name. ‘Start as you mean to go on’ was another of his grandmother’s sayings. He had no intention of letting any of these Special Forces tossers get the better of him, even if Gwen was a member of their team.
They’d only taken a couple of steps towards the fountain - Andy was amazed by the size of the thing underground - when Harper held up a hand and came to a stop, putting a finger to his lips. Andy heard voices over the sound of the flowing water and stopped beside Harper, curious.
“Jack, you can’t,” Gwen’s voice carried quite well. “He’s…he’s just Andy! He doesn’t understand how dangerous it is.”
Harper glanced at Andy and smirked. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.
“Gwen, it’s already done. He’s here. Trust him.” That would be Harkness.
“Why Jack? Why do you trust him? You don’t know him as well as I do.” Gwen was pleading.
‘Well, and there you have it,’ Andy thought. 'What Gwen Cooper - Williams - really thinks of one PC Andy Davidson.’ He was beginning to wish he hadn’t come here today.
“Maybe I know him better than you do,” Harkness responded. “Maybe I’ve known men like him before. I trust him enough to let him try. If this works out the way I think it will, I’ll trust him to watch my back. More importantly, I’ll trust him to watch yours.”
“Jack,” another voice spoke, quieter, more controlled. “You should know Owen and PC Davidson are over by the fountain. I expect Owen got lost again. Perhaps we should consider pinning his name and address to his shirt in the future.”
Harper winced and started walking again, leading Andy towards a set of stairs. “I was just letting the new boy look around Jack. Invisible lifts, pterodactyls, giant bits of wonky machinery - there’s a lot to take in.”
The stairs let out onto a working platform with a couple of computer stations and an office to the right; a battered sofa, a coffee table, and a couple of end tables comprised a sitting area against one wall. The décor was lacking, but the technology was top of the line. Harper sat down at one of the work stations, and turned his chair to watch the others - a pretty Asian woman, a youngish man Andy had never met before, and the infamous Captain Jack Harkness - who were all gathered around the coffee table working on a couple of large, hard-shell backpacks and some odd machinery. Gwen stood off to one side, arms crossed in front, looking uncomfortable.
“Owen,” warned Harkness, “not funny. We’ll talk later.”
Owen just shrugged, looking unconcerned.
“Andy, welcome to Torchwood. I’d stand, but it’s against doctor’s orders.” Harkness gestured behind the sofa to the IV bag duct taped to the wall. Taking a closer look, Andy noticed the pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps he’d been ill. It would explain why they needed extra manpower. With any luck it would also explain why Harkness was wearing a pair of loose fitting sweat pants, but no shirt. ‘Right. Note to self, check Torchwood dress code before Monday.’
“This,” Harkness continued, “is Ianto, Toshiko, Owen, and you already know Gwen.” He gestured at each of his team in turn, and then pointed at the equipment laid out on the coffee table. “Tosh figures we’ll have these ready to go within the hour. It’s a good thing I’m handy with my tools.” The young man - Ianto - shook his head at this.
“Jack,” Ianto warned, quietly.
“You can call me Jack,” Harkness said, ignoring Ianto and stretching a hand out to Andy, who reached over and shook it. “Great. Why don’t you and Gwen bring over some coffee? She can fill you in while we’re working.” Jack smiled at him, motioned to Gwen, and then turned his focus back to the tools and whatever it was they were all working on.
Gwen looked like she wanted to argue, but instead, she straightened up and motioned towards another set of stairs. “Come on then, I’ll show you where the coffee is. Lucky for us, Ianto’s already made some. All we’ll have to do is serve it.” As she got close to him, she whispered, “We need to talk.”
Glancing at the others, noting how Owen’s eyes were fixed on him, Andy held his peace until he and Gwen had reached the small coffee area. There, he grabbed Gwen’s arm and pulled her around to face him.
“What was all that about? You don’t trust me?” Andy wanted to know. He needed to know.
“Of course I trust you! Don’t be ridiculous,” Gwen protested.
“So I’m ridiculous now, am I?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You implied that you didn’t trust me. What am I supposed to think?”
“You’re supposed to think I know more about this than you do. This isn’t like police work. It’s dangerous working for Torchwood.”
“Don’t try telling me it’s safer being a PC. One of my friends died today! He didn’t work for bloody Torchwood.”
“Trust me, this is different!” Gwen winced at her choice of words.
“It seems to me that trust is a fairly one way street for you Miss Cooper.” Andy leaned back against the railing. He hoped she’d remember they’d been friends longer than she’d worked here, longer than she’d known Rhys. “Tell me what you meant when you said those things. Are we still friends?”
Gwen settled beside him against the railing, looking away. Andy studied her profile as she began to talk.
“The first day I worked here, I set loose an alien that killed people, innocent people. It was my fault. Since then, the world’s nearly ended, I’ve been shot, Rhys has been shot, my friends, that lot down there, have all almost died - it never stops! I don’t want you to have to go through all that.”
Oh, so that’s what this was about. Andy really should have expected something like this. Gwen was always looking out after everyone. Even when they’d been in school together, she’d always tried to take care of him: helping him study, inviting him over for dinner, always making sure she had a little extra to share with him. He loved her for it. Always had, always will. She was a beautiful woman with a beautiful spirit, except for one thing. Gwen never knew when she was wrong, until it was too late.
“Gwen,” Andy spoke softly and nudged her shoulder with his, “look at me?” When she turned to him, he continued, “Do you remember when we were fifteen? I seem to recall that we’ve already had this argument, and I won.” He watched her carefully. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. What I do is up to me, my choice. I get to keep my victories and my failures, all you get to do is celebrate the one and pick up the pieces after the other. Right?”
“What pieces? Torchwood doesn’t leave pieces! Suzie Costello died the first day I found out about this place. She worked here. Do you know where she is now?” Gwen pivoted to face him, thrusting her arm over the railing, pointing down. “She’s in a drawer in the wall, down there with all the other dead employees. You don’t leave Torchwood, ever.”
“Then why are you here? Why do you stay? You’ve got Rhys to think about.”
“Because they need me. What we do is important. You don’t know - ”
“Of course I don’t! Not if you lot won’t tell me. If this work is so important, then let me help.” Andy straightened and faced her, reaching out a hand to gently touch her shoulder.
“You don’t realize what you’re asking,” Gwen pleaded. “I won’t lose Rhys and I won’t lose you either.”
“It’s not your choice to make! I’m not a child. Whether I work here or not is between Jack and me. You can like it or lump it.” Pulling his hand back, Andy turned to lean over the railing. He could almost hear Gwen fuming behind him.
Heaving a sigh, Gwen finally settled next to him again. “I’m not going to change your mind in the next ten minutes, am I?”
“No,” Andy said, smiling. “You’re not. Give up?”
“No! I’m regrouping.”
“Right. Procrastinating more like. By the time you’ve regrouped we’ll both be pensioned off and living on an island somewhere.”
“I don’t think anyone gets pensioned off from Torchwood,” Gwen said, her voice quiet and sad.
“Here now, none of that. Want to borrow my hanky so you can go off and have a good cry?”
“I am not going to cry,” Gwen stated indignantly.
“Are you sure? I think I see a tear, just there,” he lifted a finger to point towards her eye, “just a small one. Maybe - ow!” Andy rubbed his arm where Gwen had smacked him. “Maybe not. Feel better?”
“A little,” she said. “I just wish I could believe you knew what you were getting into.”
“Give over! I’m here. You’re just going to have to get used to it. We can schedule arguments on the subject for Monday afternoons, if you like. Right now, my job is to protect Cardiff and its citizens. I suppose protecting them from zombies has got to be better than protecting them from drunken wankers down at the pub on Saturday night. Cleaner anyway.” Andy bumped her shoulder with his own, trying to ease the tension.
“Cleaner,” Gwen joked, giving him a small smile, “is all relative at Torchwood. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve had to crawl through.”
“Oh, what a surprise. Is it really that different from working as a constable?”
“At least I knew most of the things on the pub floor came from this planet,” she protested.
“Not what you said then.”
“Well, it was orange vomit. Remember how we used to ask them what crisps they’d eaten to get it that color?”
“And that would start them off again? Orange everywhere. Only funny when it was someone else’s car.”
Gwen began to laugh and Andy joined her. A voice from below interrupted them.
“Oi!” Owen called. “If you girls are about finished up there, why don’t you bring the coffee down here?”
Still chuckling, Gwen leaned over the railing and called, “That’ll be decaf for you then, Owen?”
“Don’t you dare! And make sure it’s from the pot Ianto made,” Owen replied. “Fucked if I’m up to drinking that swill you call coffee today.”
Gwen shook her head and began filling the coffee mugs.
“Would anyone mind if I killed him and hid the body?” Andy asked conversationally.
For some reason, this caused Gwen to laugh so hard she nearly dropped one of the mugs. Between bouts of giggles, she muttered something about “wouldn’t be the first time”, but refused to explain what she meant.
“You’ve become a complete nutter Gwen Cooper,” Andy said.
“Williams,” Gwen corrected firmly.
“Don’t remind me.”
Still grinning, Gwen handed him the tray to carry down to the others.
~*~
Saturday, March 22, 2008, 4:30pm - The Hub
22032008 - 1630
Mainframe Alert: Z3
Number of Zombies Detected: 329
Number of Zombies Dispatched: 292
Number of Zombies Remaining: 37
Number of Players: 6
Add New Player (y/n)
Scores
Dead-boy: 0
Oversexed Git: 0
Gwen: 0
Toshiko: 0
Tea-boy: 0
PC Andy: 0
Andy stood still as Toshiko checked the straps on his pack, making sure they’d hold without impairing his movement. While she worked, Andy considered the things Gwen had told him about life energy, sudden surges, and zombies. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe it. He was sure she was holding back some information. There was something odd about where the power surge had originated but, when he’d asked, she’d promised to fill him in later. She’d proceeded to explain the tracking system to him, given him a comm and a quick lesson on use of the equipment and communications procedures.
Jack had given him precise instructions on how to handle himself in the field, before giving all of them a mission briefing. It was more like going to war than police work had ever been. He would have been insulted if he’d sensed even one iota of condescension in his new employer, but he didn’t. It seemed that Jack genuinely wanted all of them back in one piece, and each carefully worded order was intended to enforce that objective.
These giant rifles - Ganthian Rifles, Toshiko had called them - had been modified so that their targeting mechanisms would focus on the particular frequency of energy that the zombies were emitting. They were attached to the hard-shell backpacks via power conducting cords that looked like rubber hoses. While he was holding the Ganthain Rifle in both hands, and wearing a large, though surprisingly light, pack, Andy felt sillier than he ever had in his life. He looked like one of those people who dressed up in outlandish gear and attended conventions with Klingons and Elves. Looking over at Owen, whom Toshiko had fitted first, Andy realized that the power packs and guns reminded him of something.
“I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” he said. “I’ve got dibs on Spengler. You can be Venkman if you’d like.”
Owen looked at Andy, and then looked at himself. “No. No, no, no, no, no! I did not sign up to be made a fool of in public.”
Tosh smiled. “You look very seventies Owen.” She gave a last pat to Andy’s gear. “You’re done. Just hold on a moment. I’ve got a little something for the two of you.” Tosh retrieved a couple of homemade stickers from her work station. With a grin, she peeled the backing and smoothed one onto Andy and one onto Owen. It was the Ghostbusters ghost with the “no ghosts allowed” symbol. Andy grinned. At least the Torchwood team seemed to get his jokes.
“Tosh,” Owen whined, “is this what you meant by uniforms?”
“Well,” she replied, “it’s as close as we’re going to get. Now, listen up you two.” Tosh motioned them both closer to her. “These rifles have a very heavy draw. They take a lot of power to shoot. Normally, you only get between four to six shots before their power is drained completely and they need to be recharged. By hooking them up to the Numidian power generators, we’ve given each rifle closer to two dozen shots before both the rifle and the generators are drained.”
Tosh held up a small device that Andy recognized as the hand held scanners they’d be using. “I have one of these for each of us, two per team, just in case the team members get separated.”
“Don’t let that happen,” Jack ordered. “Stay together. Stick close to each other. So far, the zombies haven’t exhibited anything beyond the ability to drain your life force via touch. That doesn’t mean they won’t surprise us.”
“These,” Tosh continued, again holding up the scanner, “will not only help us to track the zombies, but they can keep track of the amount of energy remaining in each rifle. Like this,” she touched a symbol on the screen and it changed to show a set of power bars, “and like this.” Tosh changed the screen back to its original set up, and then passed out the devices to each of the team members.
“Tosh and Owen, you take the SUV. Gwen and Andy, you’ll have to take the patrol car.” Jack tossed a set of keys to Tosh, while Andy looked at Jack in surprise.
“What?” Jack asked. “We’ve only got the one SUV.”
“Oh fine,” Andy said, “and I thought I’d got a job offer from a real secret agency. I suppose you’ll have to budget the coffee money in order to afford my salary? It’s probably a good thing alien races seem to lose all this useful stuff or we’d be hunting the zombies down with rubber band shooters and spit wads, hoping they’ll develop a fatal allergy to human saliva.” With a heavy sigh, he turned to Gwen. “Well, come on then. How about you drive since I have to shift this lot everywhere we go?” Andy handed Gwen the keys, indicating the rifle and power pack with a wave of his hand. “It might not be heavy, but it’s awkward.”
“Right, we’re off,” Gwen said briskly, before looking back at Jack and Ianto. Owen was waiting while Tosh went over something with the two men. Andy caught the name “Blevins” and wondered what she’d managed to find out about the missing zombie.
“Jack,” Gwen called softly, “are you and Ianto going to be all right here?”
Jack looked straight at Gwen with a warm smile. “We’ll be fine. Ianto’s just going to pop down and sort out our sensor problem, and then we’ll keep track of our rogue zombie until you four get back. I promise to keep in touch. I’m going to be monitoring all of you, but Tosh is going to be monitoring me. I’ll keep her informed. Now, go on. You and Andy have the farthest to drive. I’ll send you the address and explain after you’ve gotten to the car.” With a quick wave of his hand, Jack turned back to Tosh.
“Come on,” Andy lead the way back to the odd paving stone. “I’ve got to assume this is only one of the ‘secret’ entrances your ‘secret’ organization has. Hard to haul furniture in this way, I’d think.”
“We’ve got others and I promise to show you all of them,” Gwen stated as the paving stone started to ascend.
Andy gazed around, still amazed by the Hub. “You honestly mean to tell me that no one has ever noticed people appearing and disappearing like rabbits in a magic show? You’ve never had one cat tumble down the gaping hole in the walk?”
Gwen laughed. “The perception filter works very well. Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I suppose. But really, only one SUV? You’ve never had to split up, cover more than one address, take two teams out to hunt zombies? I’m just picturing you lot hoping out of a taxi trying to look impressive while tipping the driver.”
“You’d be surprised what we’ve managed to pull off. Where’s the car?”
Andy led them to his vehicle. While Andy stowed the gear, Gwen contacted Jack on her comm.
“Jack, we’re ready for the address.
“Sending. It’s the most distant signal.”
“Why not take the nearest ones first,” Andy questioned. “Wouldn’t that be more practical?”
“Good question Andy. This one is in a thickly populated residential neighborhood, lots of families. So far, this signal has been fairly stationary. I want it taken care of before it goes hunting. Most likely it’s already fed, so you’re going to have corpses. We’re going to be facing a lot of clean-up on this one.”
“We’re on our way. You and Ianto be careful,” Gwen ordered.
“Yes Mom.”
Gwen started the car and began the long drive into the outskirts of Cardiff. It was a Saturday afternoon, so traffic wasn’t too heavy, but it would still take about half an hour to get to the neighborhood. The time went quickly as they caught up with each other’s lives. It had been a couple of years since they’d actually spent this much time together. Well, except for the whole Flat Holm incident and Andy wasn’t ready to breach that subject yet. He and Gwen had made a tentative peace, and the next few hours were bound to be dangerous. There’d be time enough to sort that mess out later.
By 5:00pm they were parking in front of a nice home, having reached the address. Andy quickly shrugged into his pack, instinctively noting the manicured lawns and tidy landscaping. Ominously, the front door stood ajar, and he could just see fresh drag marks in the grass by the drive.
“There’s still a signal from inside. Jack,” Gwen spoke into her comm, “we’re going in.”
“Confirm. Use caution.”
“Yes Mum.”
“Gwen…” Jack warned.
“Right, sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“We’re fine,” Andy said firmly, trying to reassure both Jack and Gwen. “In we go, on three, just like on the telly.”
Gwen pushed the door open, gun drawn, while Andy entered first, rifle charged and ready.
There was a short entrance hall with a small coat closet, the door open slightly. Andy checked inside before shutting it firmly. No zombies, but two large coats and three in smaller sizes. Children. The house was too quiet, Andy realized.
“Who lives here? How many residents?” he asked Jack over the comm.
“Hold on. Records say the home belongs to Martin and Catherine Lloyd.” There was a pause. “Three children: Samuel, Todd, and Ivy. Andy, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for sending me out to do my job. We’re checking the rest of the house.” Andy motioned Gwen to one side as he moved up to peer in an opening. It led into the kitchen. A large, airy room with marble countertops and modern equipment, it was obviously maintained by someone who loved to cook. Andy noted the expensive, knife set, bread maker, and other bits of fancy equipment he’d never seen the use for himself. Off to one side was a set of bay windows, in front of which was positioned a table and chairs. Andy froze, and then turned to Gwen.
“Don’t -” he tried to tell her, but she pushed past him, stopping with a gasp.
“Oh no.” Gwen stared, wide eyed at the table. “Are they -”
Andy nodded, but went to check anyway.
The table was set for four, and laid with sandwiches, fresh fruit, biscuits and juice. At the four places lay four children, slumped over their plates. It was obvious to Andy that they’d been placed this way after they’d been killed. The burned and blistered skin on their cheeks indicated that a zombie had been the cause of death. Andy had seen burn marks just like these at the hospital.
Only a couple of hours had passed since his world view had been changed completely. He was beginning to understand what Gwen had been trying to protect him from. This wasn’t the sort of thing you would be able to shrug off at the end of the day and settle down to watch a football game with your mates. The world you lived in was too different from theirs. He moved forward and checked for pulses, even knowing what he’d find. Sometimes, all you could do was follow procedure. It was comforting, in a way.
The wide, staring eyes were normal on corpses, but it seemed so much like frozen horror on the small faces, that Andy was glad when he could turn away and shake his head at Gwen.
“Damn it,” she said softly, before turning back towards the opening, keeping watch.
“Jack, we’ve got four children dead in the kitchen,” Andy reported.
There was a moment of silence. “Confirmed. I’ll co-ordinate with local authorities. We’re blame it on some form of plague. Localized and contained.”
“Cover it up?” Andy asked, horrified.
“I doubt anyone wants to know the truth. It wouldn’t do them any good. Can we argue about this later?”
“How often do you cover up your own mistakes Jack? How often have people died because of Torchwood?”
“Andy, shut it!” Gwen ordered. “Not here, not now. We promised we’d tell you everything. You can decide later if we’re worse than the zombies and the aliens and all the other things we protect the world from, but for right now, just don’t.”
Andy nodded reluctantly. The comms had fallen silent. Gwen was right. He needed to focus on the job at hand.
“Later then,” Andy agreed.
Working together, Gwen and Andy proceeded to check the rest of the house. The downstairs was clear, so they cautiously proceeded up the stairs to the second floor. The children’s bedrooms were empty, thank goodness. When they reached the master bedroom, Gwen peered carefully around the doorframe, drawing her head back quickly. She jerked her head toward the room, indicating to Andy that there was someone - something - inside. Andy checked the rifle, and then slowly entered the room.
The bed was to the right. It was large, with a fluffy duvet made of some fine material and an expensive looking wooden frame and headboard. There was a man lying in the bed, under the covers. If it hadn’t been for the burns on his face and his staring eyes, Andy could believe he was sleeping. There were two chairs and a small table set in front of large decorative windows, a small reading area. A woman sat in one of the chairs, gazing fixedly at the bed. She looked up as Andy entered the room.
“Shh,” she said, “he’s sleeping.” She turned her eyes back to the man on the bed.
Andy moved out of the doorway, giving Gwen room to enter, never taking his eyes off the woman. “Catherine?” he asked. “Are you Catherine Lloyd?”
Without looking at him, she answered, “I was. He was my husband. Those were my children, except for Michael. He lives down the street. His mother, Alice, will cry and cry and cry.” She finally turned her head to face them. “I can’t anymore. I have no tears. Will you mourn for them?”
At Gwen’s choked gasp, the zombie, once Catherine Lloyd - wife, mother, daughter, and friend - stood and focused her gaze completely on them. Her skin was pale, the barest of flushes over her cheeks, but her eyes were far from dead. They were sharp, bright and dangerous. They reminded Andy of a nature special he’d seen once, studying the habits of predators. The zombies might be able to survive by consuming “life force”, but their humanity was slipping away.
“You’ll cry for them, won’t you love?” Catherine’s eyes were focused completely on Gwen now. “I’ve cleaned them, fed them, and put them to bed, but you’ll mourn them for me? I can see the tears in your eyes. You’ll give me your tears, then I’ll be able to mourn them. Just hold still…” Eyes fixed, unblinking on Gwen, Catherine stepped forward, moving slowly, inexorably towards them. Gwen stepped back and raised her gun; Andy didn’t have to think twice. Catherine Lloyd was no longer human.
Raising the Ganthian rifle to his shoulder, Andy pulled the trigger. There was a high pitched whine from the weapon, followed by a pulse of darkness that streaked from the rifle towards the zombie. He blinked and it was over, the zombie collapsing to the floor, utterly lifeless, while the sudden chill in the air caused him to shiver. Tiny, wet snowflakes fluttered down through the air wherever the darkness had touched, melting as soon as they reached the floor. The damp trail of tears led to the zombie’s corpse.
It was over for now, and for once PC Andy Davidson wasn’t going to be involved in the aftermath. Some other constable would be sent down the street to inform Michael’s mother that he was dead. Andy was working for Torchwood now, not sure if he liked it.
Cradling the heavy rifle in one arm, he gave Gwen’s hand a quick squeeze. She seemed shaken, but ready to continue.
“Jack, we’re done here,” she reported. “Two more dead in the master bedroom: Catherine and Martin Lloyd.”
“Confirmed. Head out to the next location.”
“Right,” she replied.
Solemnly, they left the house.
“It’s so sad,” Gwen said, sliding behind the steering wheel as Andy stowed his equipment. “That woman, her family, she was so sad.”
“Crocodile tears, or grief as the case may be.” Andy slid in beside her as she started the car.
“What do you mean?”
“She was sad, but it was more like - I can’t believe I’m going to say this - an echo of human grief. She was stalking you Gwen, distracting you with her sorrow. She noticed you reacted to that and used it to try and lure you in. The zombies are learning to hunt.”
Yesterday, Andy would have laughed if anyone had said that to him. He would have suggested a trip to hospital, or a long vacation. Today, Andy had become an employee of Torchwood. It was hard to think about all those others, stored in drawers back at the Hub. It was harder yet to think about becoming one of them some day. But, ‘a corner once turned can’t be unlearned’ his Gran had always said. He’d never understood that one, until now. No going back. If there were zombies out there, Andy was ready for them.
A/N: Ran a couple of days late with this update. Be patient, the next one might be a tad late as well. I've got to co-ordinate the next two chapters with each other. Tosh and Owen get center stage next!