FIC: Lost in Translation
Team. Humor. Zombies. PG-13 for decomposition. S7. No Spoilers.
This was originally intended for the zombiethon "Zombie Jamboree" challenge from just about a year ago. I’d written two paragraphs before zombies ate my brain, and decided to finish it after I found it while cleaning out my fic folder.
The sickly-sweet stench of decay crawled across the back of Daniel's tongue. He sucked in short breaths against the bile-sour panic rising in the back of his throat, making him gag. Brassy cymbals and pipes rang harsh in his ears, punctuating the moans of shuffling, swaying bodies pressed close around him, bumping him to and fro. Thick fingers brushed along his chest and his face, smearing cold, fetid trails along his shirt and skin, and when he stumbled back, pushed them away - oh shit, oh fucking God got to get out of here - his hands sunk into them.
When fingers dug into the collar of his jacket, he screamed.
"Daniel Jackson!" A hard yank, and he was dangling a few feet off the ground. More hands - firm, warm living hands - caught his sleeves and his arms, hoisting him up into one of the enormous, ancient trees that crowded the ceremonial site.
He ended up sprawled across Sam and Teal’c, while Jack, nose wrinkled, scuttled back along a broad branch and crowded himself against the trunk. "Why don't you stay over there."
Below, more bodies shuffled into view. "Where are they coming from?" Sam looked like she might lose her lunch and dinner, something Daniel was thinking of himself, as one of the new arrival’s legs collapsed out from under it, literally. It went down and the others paid no mind as they crushed it under their stuttered, awkward dance. There were hundreds gathered now, packed tight among the wide trunks of the trees. Their rasping moans wove a surreal harmony in counterpoint to the pipes.
"They began to appear when the music began to play." Teal’c gave Daniel a little shove, just enough to encourage Daniel off his lap, and then scraped his palms on the tree bark, his mouth and eyebrows sketching a moue of distaste.
"Thank God Carter thought about getting up here," Jack said, "Or we’d all smell like you." But the sarcasm didn’t hide the grayish pallor of his skin, and Daniel remembered that Jack always refused to watch any movie with zombies in it.
"Do the Betghids know what’s happening, Daniel?" Sam asked.
"Um. Yes."
"Yes?" Jack didn’t appear pleased with that answer. "How did we miss that?"
"Well, that may be my fault." Jack didn't look surprised, and Daniel decided not to take it personally. "You know what I said about this being a remembrance thing, a ceremony to honor the dead?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, what Tosho said at the beginning of the ceremony was, 'return life to the dead, so that they may dance with us.' I just didn't think he meant it literally."
This was originally intended for the zombiethon "Zombie Jamboree" challenge from just about a year ago. I’d written two paragraphs before zombies ate my brain, and decided to finish it after I found it while cleaning out my fic folder.
The sickly-sweet stench of decay crawled across the back of Daniel's tongue. He sucked in short breaths against the bile-sour panic rising in the back of his throat, making him gag. Brassy cymbals and pipes rang harsh in his ears, punctuating the moans of shuffling, swaying bodies pressed close around him, bumping him to and fro. Thick fingers brushed along his chest and his face, smearing cold, fetid trails along his shirt and skin, and when he stumbled back, pushed them away - oh shit, oh fucking God got to get out of here - his hands sunk into them.
When fingers dug into the collar of his jacket, he screamed.
"Daniel Jackson!" A hard yank, and he was dangling a few feet off the ground. More hands - firm, warm living hands - caught his sleeves and his arms, hoisting him up into one of the enormous, ancient trees that crowded the ceremonial site.
He ended up sprawled across Sam and Teal’c, while Jack, nose wrinkled, scuttled back along a broad branch and crowded himself against the trunk. "Why don't you stay over there."
Below, more bodies shuffled into view. "Where are they coming from?" Sam looked like she might lose her lunch and dinner, something Daniel was thinking of himself, as one of the new arrival’s legs collapsed out from under it, literally. It went down and the others paid no mind as they crushed it under their stuttered, awkward dance. There were hundreds gathered now, packed tight among the wide trunks of the trees. Their rasping moans wove a surreal harmony in counterpoint to the pipes.
"They began to appear when the music began to play." Teal’c gave Daniel a little shove, just enough to encourage Daniel off his lap, and then scraped his palms on the tree bark, his mouth and eyebrows sketching a moue of distaste.
"Thank God Carter thought about getting up here," Jack said, "Or we’d all smell like you." But the sarcasm didn’t hide the grayish pallor of his skin, and Daniel remembered that Jack always refused to watch any movie with zombies in it.
"Do the Betghids know what’s happening, Daniel?" Sam asked.
"Um. Yes."
"Yes?" Jack didn’t appear pleased with that answer. "How did we miss that?"
"Well, that may be my fault." Jack didn't look surprised, and Daniel decided not to take it personally. "You know what I said about this being a remembrance thing, a ceremony to honor the dead?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, what Tosho said at the beginning of the ceremony was, 'return life to the dead, so that they may dance with us.' I just didn't think he meant it literally."