Based on a True Movie by scoured
Author: scoured
Title: Based on a True Movie
Fandom: Veronica Mars
For: seanarenay
Words: 3,000
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers through 2x20, "Look Who's Stalking." Minor speculation for end of season 2. Character death ahead.
Summary: It all unfolds just like a bad horror flick. This could only happen this close to L.A.
It was business as usual at Mars Investigations. Weevil sat across the desk from Veronica, telling her about the myriad problems of a deposed biker gang leader. He wanted a favor, in the form of some crack sleuthing and routine B&E. Honestly, the simplicity of his request made her wonder if he wasn't just a little lonely, and wanted some company in his illicit activities.
She was just about to ask dear Eli to confirm her suspicions when she heard a disturbing sound from behind the closed door of her dad's office. There was...giggling.
"What're those two doing in there?" Weevil asked.
"There's no TV, so we know it's not Spongebob."
Cliff and her father had been in there for about half an hour, but she had assumed it was purely business. Who knew what those crazy kids were up to.
Definitely business as usual at Mars Investigations. Until the door swung open to reveal an out of breath Gia Goodman, that was.
With an even more exaggerated version of her usual wide-eyed expression, she started rambling. "Veronica, you wouldn't believe what just happened! I was down the street looking for something to wear to visit my dad - you know, I didn't want to look too good in front of the prisoners, because yuck, but all of my clothes are really hot. So I was looking for something pseudo-professional but not matronly, and-"
"Sweet Jesus, woman! Is there going to be a point soon or do I need to call and reschedule my manicure?" She looked annoyed at Weevil's outburst, but it had its desired effect.
"Anyway," she continued with precision, "this dirty guy attacked me as I was leaving the shop. He just came out of nowhere, and then he was pawing at me and just, ew. I pushed him off and ran. He must have been seriously hammered, because he tried to come after me, but he was just swaying and stumbling all over the place. I remembered that your office was nearby, so I came here. I don't exactly know anyone else in the area."
The dig at their zip codes was probably unintentional, so Veronica let it go. "What were you doing shopping on this side of town anyway, Gia?"
She took in a deep breath, and Veronica leaned back in her chair, afraid they were in for another epic tale of privileged woe. But Gia just sighed, defeated. "They've frozen Dad's bank accounts, so we're having to budget and stuff."
Weevil flashed his "get a load of this" grin, and Veronica stood up for her dramatic exit, picking up purse and laptop. "Gee, that's rough, Gia. But you don't look like you're too badly damaged, and it's time for me to go serve some lattes. I'm saving up for something to wear on my next nursing home visit."
"You should go for something pseudo-matronly," Weevil chimed in.
"I'll consider it," Veronica responded, as she headed for the door. "I'll call you when I get off work."
"Looking forward to it," he said with a wink.
"Can you at least walk me out?" Gia asked.
Veronica paused, hand on the door. "If my presence inspires you with that much confidence, feel free to walk out with me."
The girls headed down the stairs, the sound of Gia's heels echoing around them, but they didn't make it past the street-level door. Veronica tried to push it open, but it wouldn't budge - something was blocking it. She leaned all of her weight against the metal bar, and it finally opened partially. The "something" was a man, and from Gia's yelp, Veronica surmised it was her attacker.
Gia's description had been right on the mark. He was dirty, paler than anyone she had ever seen, and it looked like he had recently been in a fight, if the chunks of skin he seemed to be missing were any indication. He also looked like he'd been out drinking for days; the operation of the door seemed to be beyond his current capabilities, as he had been leaning against it rather than pulling outward.
Veronica quickly pulled the door closed again, and attempted the impossible - reasoning with a drunk. Thankfully the door was thin enough that she could shout at him through it.
"You know, I think what you need right now is a doctor, not a PI! Balboa County isn't too far. Walk towards the sun, you'll get there!" Her attempts at helpfulness were not greeted with enthusiasm. He continued to push against the door and mumble incoherently.
"OK, look, I have to get to work! Gia here needs to go...somewhere. So I'm going to go upstairs and get my Dad. I'll warn you, though, he's not pleasant to talk to when you're intoxicated. He's very hands-on." There wasn't a response, so she headed up the stairs to retrieve the cavalry.
***
When Veronica heard her father shouting, she was probably the most frightened she'd ever been in her life. He had always been the one person she could count on to not be scared for his own safety, even when the clothes on his back were burning. She was glad Weevil was there, otherwise she probably would have done something stupid. Much better to let him do something stupid.
Veronica didn't even want to know how he knew where to find her dad's gun. But she was relieved to see him with it as she followed him down the stairs.
When they got to the sidewalk, the stranger had his teeth sunk into her father's arm and there was a lot of blood, and all Veronica could think was that her mom at her drunkest had never done anything like that, and she knew it sounded terrible but she was scared.
Weevil took no time for shock; he pulled the guy off Keith and shot him through the chest, close range.
The silence that followed was the kind only created by a gunshot. It was a silence that maintained the fear from the moments earlier and inspired a fear of the repercussions to follow. It was a silence that was broken when what should have been a corpse began groaning and climbed to its feet.
They ran back to the office as he shambled towards them.
Cliff and Gia looked worried when they came in, and even more worried when Veronica and Weevil eased Keith onto the couch. There was blood everywhere and a definite chunk missing from his arm.
After directing Gia to get the first aid kit from the bathroom, and Cliff to call 911, they gathered their bearings.
"All right," Weevil began, "we've got a guy who's pale, kinda decomposed, not too bright or fast, has a thing for human flesh, strong, I'm guessing - "
"Definitely strong," Keith groaned.
"And when you shoot him - "
"Which I need to talk to you about, Eli - "
"Please, Sheriff. Wait 'til you're better. Save your strength." Veronica noticed the glint of humor in his eye, even in this situation.
"So, when you shoot him," Weevil continued, "he just picks himself right back up again. Are you thinking - "
"Zombie?" Veronica supplied.
"Yeah, we're looking at a zombie," her dad determined.
At this point, Gia returned with the first-aid kit. But the combination of the word "zombie" and a look at Keith's wound sent her back to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth.
Veronica saw this, but she thought trying to stop her dad's bleeding was more important than comforting Gia and her stomach. "Okay, I know that all evidence points to zombie. This is pretty standard Night of the Living Dead. But, as much as Neptune feels like hell on Earth, I have a hard time accepting it really is."
"I buy it," Weevil argued. "The only thing that surprises me is that all those rich bastards didn't find a way to come back from the grave sooner. My bet, that guy comes from some cryogenics experiment gone bad. People get a certain amount of money, they want to live forever so they can keep anyone else from getting to it."
"So you think there's just the one?" Veronica asked hopefully. "Because you say 'zombie,' I say 'horde.' I would really appreciate it if there were just the one."
"I'm going to have to burst your bubble there, I'm afraid," Cliff said drolly as he entered the room. It really bothered Veronica that he could manage droll when delivering such monumentally bad news.
"I tried 911, but the lines were completely jammed. Thankfully, I had the personal cell phone number of the delightful Inga of the sheriff's station. Don't ask." He leveled this at Veronica. "Unless you really want to know, that is," he smirked.
"Inga was happy to hear that I was safe, but said that there was no way we were getting law enforcement or medical attention. These things have popped up all over the city, but of course most of the help is going to a particular area. I think they're worried about property values dropping."
"Of course," Veronica sighed. She stood up and reached down to offer her dad some support. "Well, I'll just have to drive you to the hospital. I'm sure we can fight past one little zombie."
"Um, V?" Weevil said. While they were talking, he had moved to stand next to the window. "We've officially hit the 'horde' stage of the program."
***
When you got right down to it, Cliff was probably the smartest out of all of them. After they barricaded the doors with two layers of filing cabinets (and a futile attempt to move the safe), Cliff pulled a bottle of gin from his briefcase and proceeded to get hammered. He said that when he was torn limb from limb, he preferred a little anesthetic.
Gia hadn't left the bathroom yet. At one point, Veronica had remembered to check on her, and she found her on the floor, sobbing. Veronica tried to console her, get her out, until she realized that there was really little point. Where was she going to take her? So, she left to find something useful to do.
Her dad wasn't looking good, and that was nothing if not an understatement. He was pale and sweating and a little green around the edges, and no amount of disinfectant or tourniquets was changing that. Weevil kept shooting worried glances between Veronica and her dad, and she knew what he was thinking. She'd seen her share of horror movies, and she knew what traditionally came next.
But this wasn't a movie, she kept reminding herself. Just because everything had followed the script up to this point didn't mean it would continue in that direction. If she could just gather enough information and formulate a plan, they could all get through this. So, she connected her internet and got to work.
It only took half an hour for her to realize there was little information and there would be no plan. The epidemic was all over the West Coast, and quickly spreading despite attempts at quarantine. No one had any idea what was causing it, or at least nothing had been given to the journalists yet. And reports indicated that anyone whose skin had been broken by one of the creatures (no one was calling them zombies - they hadn't really accepted that part of it yet) became horribly ill, slipped into a deathlike state, and then...
A trilling sound from her computer snapped Veronica out of her grim reverie. Wallace's screen name attached to an IM surprised her, and she guiltily realized that in her preoccupation with what was going on in the office, she hadn't thought about her best friend at all.
Wallace was at home, with his mom and brother. It sounded like they were pretty freaked out, but safe. When he asked about her situation, she told him much the same. What was happening on the couch across the room couldn't be conveyed in lower case abbreviated words and punctuated smiley faces.
She excused herself with a "BRB" and went to check on her dad. Cliff had pulled his chair up across the coffee table from him, and was trying to keep him as entertained as was possible. His stories from his time as public defender in Reno weren't making much of an impact, as Keith was barely skirting consciousness, but Veronica appreciated the effort.
He roused when Veronica sunk into the upholstery and moved his good arm so it rested on her shoulders. His fingers played with the wisps of her hair absently.
"You're a good girl, you know that, right?" he murmured. "Best daughter I could have ever wanted."
"I don't know about that. I've never really responded well to direction."
"Now, now. If you did, it would just make things so much less interesting. What's life without adventures? I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you too, Daddy. How's your arm?"
"Ah, I can barely feel it," he said quietly.
"I should probably change the bandages again. But I'm going to need more alcohol, the kit's out."
Cliff glanced fearfully at his 3/4 empty bottle.
"I was thinking rubbing alcohol," she said pointedly.
***
"You know," Veronica said, pursing her lips. "I think I would have predicted the zombie epidemic before this. Yeah, I could have definitely done without seeing this."
Weevil imitated her trademark head tilt. "Then maybe you should consider knocking. Save yourself a lot of trouble that way."
Veronica had opened the bathroom door on her search for antiseptics, and had instead found Weevil and Gia rounding 3rd base on the grey tiled floor. With everything else, she hadn't realized that he'd left the main room.
"Couldn't you find something constructive to do, Weevil? I mean, I don't think seducing the seriously traumatized is a very highly-ranked survival strategy."
"I'm not actually complaining," Gia piped in as she covered herself.
"There, you see? There's no seduction. Well," he grinned, "maybe there was a little seduction involved. But what you see here is two people giving each other comfort during a stressful time. I'm no predator.
"And what exactly should I be doing, anyway? We're trapped. You hear 'em scrabbling around in the stairwell. We couldn't possibly fight our way through. I can't get more food, and there's no outside help for me to summon."
Hearing the situation laid out in such stark terms was threatening to chip away the thin barrier Veronica had been able to construct. It was nothing she didn't already realize, but she didn't want to hear it out loud, and she knew that what was coming next was worse.
Weevil's voice dropped to a calm, almost whisper. "We all know that even with all that, the biggest danger to us is inside this office. But you're definitely not going to let me do anything constructive about that right now - "
"Stop!" Veronica yelled. "Don't say anything else."
"Then get whatever you came for, and latch the door behind you."
***
After changing her dad's bandages and seeing him settled down for a rest, Veronica sat in front of her laptop and typed a message to Wallace. There was no reply, but he could have been anywhere. She had been gone for at least half an hour.
She briefly considered making a call to the Neptune Grand, but she found that those emotions were still too raw to deal with, even at the end of the world. Besides, the penthouse suite of the nicest hotel in town was probably one of the safest spots around.
Veronica was now confronted with the one thing she'd been trying to avoid since this whole thing started - inactivity. She didn't have anything to do, besides reassure herself that her dad's chest was still moving up and down.
Okay, if Wallace wasn't by his computer, he would still have his phone on him. He barely ever put the thing down to charge it.
***
"You know, they never beat them, right?" Weevil asked. He and Gia had taken seats with the rest of them in the reception room. Veronica hated to admit it when Weevil was right, but Gia had looked significantly calmer since their post-apocalyptic nookie. She now wore the same resigned expression as the rest of them.
"In the movies," Weevil continued. "They never stop. They spread and multiply and they just keep coming."
"They stop 'em sometimes," Cliff argued. He had recently finished the last of his gin, and he'd been staring at the bottle wistfully since. Veronica had started to wonder if he was still retaining his motor functions.
"I saw one where they killed all of them. Return of the Living Dead, that was the one."
"Wait," Veronica said. "I saw part of that once, late night TV. Didn't they nuke the city at the end?"
Cliff started giggling hysterically. "Yup, that's how you stop the zombie plague. I bet DC's running fallout estimates for it right now. How else do they keep it from escaping the coast, huh?"
"God, Cliff, that's really not funny!"
Weevil sighed. "I don't think it was trying to be, V."
Wallace had never picked up his phone, or responded to her messages. Veronica had still been holding out hope, if only because she couldn't stand the thought of her last words to him being "BRB." She had been stroking her dad's hand and just willing him to breathe a little longer, just until the deus ex machina, in the form of army tanks or a roving flamethrower-toting badass.
But Cliff was probably right, and her dad had stopped breathing ten minutes ago. She knew it was selfish, but she hoped Weevil didn't notice. He'd kept the pistol within his reach since they were in the stairwell, and she couldn't handle the thought of it pointed anywhere near her father's head. She'd rather die first, and that was looking like a strong possibility from whatever direction she looked.
Her dad's hand stirred against her arm and she squeezed him in the biggest bear hug of her life, crying silent tears into the plaid of his shirt. Weevil was yelling at her, but it hardly mattered; the sound of planes could be heard overhead.
Title: Based on a True Movie
Fandom: Veronica Mars
For: seanarenay
Words: 3,000
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers through 2x20, "Look Who's Stalking." Minor speculation for end of season 2. Character death ahead.
Summary: It all unfolds just like a bad horror flick. This could only happen this close to L.A.
It was business as usual at Mars Investigations. Weevil sat across the desk from Veronica, telling her about the myriad problems of a deposed biker gang leader. He wanted a favor, in the form of some crack sleuthing and routine B&E. Honestly, the simplicity of his request made her wonder if he wasn't just a little lonely, and wanted some company in his illicit activities.
She was just about to ask dear Eli to confirm her suspicions when she heard a disturbing sound from behind the closed door of her dad's office. There was...giggling.
"What're those two doing in there?" Weevil asked.
"There's no TV, so we know it's not Spongebob."
Cliff and her father had been in there for about half an hour, but she had assumed it was purely business. Who knew what those crazy kids were up to.
Definitely business as usual at Mars Investigations. Until the door swung open to reveal an out of breath Gia Goodman, that was.
With an even more exaggerated version of her usual wide-eyed expression, she started rambling. "Veronica, you wouldn't believe what just happened! I was down the street looking for something to wear to visit my dad - you know, I didn't want to look too good in front of the prisoners, because yuck, but all of my clothes are really hot. So I was looking for something pseudo-professional but not matronly, and-"
"Sweet Jesus, woman! Is there going to be a point soon or do I need to call and reschedule my manicure?" She looked annoyed at Weevil's outburst, but it had its desired effect.
"Anyway," she continued with precision, "this dirty guy attacked me as I was leaving the shop. He just came out of nowhere, and then he was pawing at me and just, ew. I pushed him off and ran. He must have been seriously hammered, because he tried to come after me, but he was just swaying and stumbling all over the place. I remembered that your office was nearby, so I came here. I don't exactly know anyone else in the area."
The dig at their zip codes was probably unintentional, so Veronica let it go. "What were you doing shopping on this side of town anyway, Gia?"
She took in a deep breath, and Veronica leaned back in her chair, afraid they were in for another epic tale of privileged woe. But Gia just sighed, defeated. "They've frozen Dad's bank accounts, so we're having to budget and stuff."
Weevil flashed his "get a load of this" grin, and Veronica stood up for her dramatic exit, picking up purse and laptop. "Gee, that's rough, Gia. But you don't look like you're too badly damaged, and it's time for me to go serve some lattes. I'm saving up for something to wear on my next nursing home visit."
"You should go for something pseudo-matronly," Weevil chimed in.
"I'll consider it," Veronica responded, as she headed for the door. "I'll call you when I get off work."
"Looking forward to it," he said with a wink.
"Can you at least walk me out?" Gia asked.
Veronica paused, hand on the door. "If my presence inspires you with that much confidence, feel free to walk out with me."
The girls headed down the stairs, the sound of Gia's heels echoing around them, but they didn't make it past the street-level door. Veronica tried to push it open, but it wouldn't budge - something was blocking it. She leaned all of her weight against the metal bar, and it finally opened partially. The "something" was a man, and from Gia's yelp, Veronica surmised it was her attacker.
Gia's description had been right on the mark. He was dirty, paler than anyone she had ever seen, and it looked like he had recently been in a fight, if the chunks of skin he seemed to be missing were any indication. He also looked like he'd been out drinking for days; the operation of the door seemed to be beyond his current capabilities, as he had been leaning against it rather than pulling outward.
Veronica quickly pulled the door closed again, and attempted the impossible - reasoning with a drunk. Thankfully the door was thin enough that she could shout at him through it.
"You know, I think what you need right now is a doctor, not a PI! Balboa County isn't too far. Walk towards the sun, you'll get there!" Her attempts at helpfulness were not greeted with enthusiasm. He continued to push against the door and mumble incoherently.
"OK, look, I have to get to work! Gia here needs to go...somewhere. So I'm going to go upstairs and get my Dad. I'll warn you, though, he's not pleasant to talk to when you're intoxicated. He's very hands-on." There wasn't a response, so she headed up the stairs to retrieve the cavalry.
***
When Veronica heard her father shouting, she was probably the most frightened she'd ever been in her life. He had always been the one person she could count on to not be scared for his own safety, even when the clothes on his back were burning. She was glad Weevil was there, otherwise she probably would have done something stupid. Much better to let him do something stupid.
Veronica didn't even want to know how he knew where to find her dad's gun. But she was relieved to see him with it as she followed him down the stairs.
When they got to the sidewalk, the stranger had his teeth sunk into her father's arm and there was a lot of blood, and all Veronica could think was that her mom at her drunkest had never done anything like that, and she knew it sounded terrible but she was scared.
Weevil took no time for shock; he pulled the guy off Keith and shot him through the chest, close range.
The silence that followed was the kind only created by a gunshot. It was a silence that maintained the fear from the moments earlier and inspired a fear of the repercussions to follow. It was a silence that was broken when what should have been a corpse began groaning and climbed to its feet.
They ran back to the office as he shambled towards them.
Cliff and Gia looked worried when they came in, and even more worried when Veronica and Weevil eased Keith onto the couch. There was blood everywhere and a definite chunk missing from his arm.
After directing Gia to get the first aid kit from the bathroom, and Cliff to call 911, they gathered their bearings.
"All right," Weevil began, "we've got a guy who's pale, kinda decomposed, not too bright or fast, has a thing for human flesh, strong, I'm guessing - "
"Definitely strong," Keith groaned.
"And when you shoot him - "
"Which I need to talk to you about, Eli - "
"Please, Sheriff. Wait 'til you're better. Save your strength." Veronica noticed the glint of humor in his eye, even in this situation.
"So, when you shoot him," Weevil continued, "he just picks himself right back up again. Are you thinking - "
"Zombie?" Veronica supplied.
"Yeah, we're looking at a zombie," her dad determined.
At this point, Gia returned with the first-aid kit. But the combination of the word "zombie" and a look at Keith's wound sent her back to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth.
Veronica saw this, but she thought trying to stop her dad's bleeding was more important than comforting Gia and her stomach. "Okay, I know that all evidence points to zombie. This is pretty standard Night of the Living Dead. But, as much as Neptune feels like hell on Earth, I have a hard time accepting it really is."
"I buy it," Weevil argued. "The only thing that surprises me is that all those rich bastards didn't find a way to come back from the grave sooner. My bet, that guy comes from some cryogenics experiment gone bad. People get a certain amount of money, they want to live forever so they can keep anyone else from getting to it."
"So you think there's just the one?" Veronica asked hopefully. "Because you say 'zombie,' I say 'horde.' I would really appreciate it if there were just the one."
"I'm going to have to burst your bubble there, I'm afraid," Cliff said drolly as he entered the room. It really bothered Veronica that he could manage droll when delivering such monumentally bad news.
"I tried 911, but the lines were completely jammed. Thankfully, I had the personal cell phone number of the delightful Inga of the sheriff's station. Don't ask." He leveled this at Veronica. "Unless you really want to know, that is," he smirked.
"Inga was happy to hear that I was safe, but said that there was no way we were getting law enforcement or medical attention. These things have popped up all over the city, but of course most of the help is going to a particular area. I think they're worried about property values dropping."
"Of course," Veronica sighed. She stood up and reached down to offer her dad some support. "Well, I'll just have to drive you to the hospital. I'm sure we can fight past one little zombie."
"Um, V?" Weevil said. While they were talking, he had moved to stand next to the window. "We've officially hit the 'horde' stage of the program."
***
When you got right down to it, Cliff was probably the smartest out of all of them. After they barricaded the doors with two layers of filing cabinets (and a futile attempt to move the safe), Cliff pulled a bottle of gin from his briefcase and proceeded to get hammered. He said that when he was torn limb from limb, he preferred a little anesthetic.
Gia hadn't left the bathroom yet. At one point, Veronica had remembered to check on her, and she found her on the floor, sobbing. Veronica tried to console her, get her out, until she realized that there was really little point. Where was she going to take her? So, she left to find something useful to do.
Her dad wasn't looking good, and that was nothing if not an understatement. He was pale and sweating and a little green around the edges, and no amount of disinfectant or tourniquets was changing that. Weevil kept shooting worried glances between Veronica and her dad, and she knew what he was thinking. She'd seen her share of horror movies, and she knew what traditionally came next.
But this wasn't a movie, she kept reminding herself. Just because everything had followed the script up to this point didn't mean it would continue in that direction. If she could just gather enough information and formulate a plan, they could all get through this. So, she connected her internet and got to work.
It only took half an hour for her to realize there was little information and there would be no plan. The epidemic was all over the West Coast, and quickly spreading despite attempts at quarantine. No one had any idea what was causing it, or at least nothing had been given to the journalists yet. And reports indicated that anyone whose skin had been broken by one of the creatures (no one was calling them zombies - they hadn't really accepted that part of it yet) became horribly ill, slipped into a deathlike state, and then...
A trilling sound from her computer snapped Veronica out of her grim reverie. Wallace's screen name attached to an IM surprised her, and she guiltily realized that in her preoccupation with what was going on in the office, she hadn't thought about her best friend at all.
Wallace was at home, with his mom and brother. It sounded like they were pretty freaked out, but safe. When he asked about her situation, she told him much the same. What was happening on the couch across the room couldn't be conveyed in lower case abbreviated words and punctuated smiley faces.
She excused herself with a "BRB" and went to check on her dad. Cliff had pulled his chair up across the coffee table from him, and was trying to keep him as entertained as was possible. His stories from his time as public defender in Reno weren't making much of an impact, as Keith was barely skirting consciousness, but Veronica appreciated the effort.
He roused when Veronica sunk into the upholstery and moved his good arm so it rested on her shoulders. His fingers played with the wisps of her hair absently.
"You're a good girl, you know that, right?" he murmured. "Best daughter I could have ever wanted."
"I don't know about that. I've never really responded well to direction."
"Now, now. If you did, it would just make things so much less interesting. What's life without adventures? I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you too, Daddy. How's your arm?"
"Ah, I can barely feel it," he said quietly.
"I should probably change the bandages again. But I'm going to need more alcohol, the kit's out."
Cliff glanced fearfully at his 3/4 empty bottle.
"I was thinking rubbing alcohol," she said pointedly.
***
"You know," Veronica said, pursing her lips. "I think I would have predicted the zombie epidemic before this. Yeah, I could have definitely done without seeing this."
Weevil imitated her trademark head tilt. "Then maybe you should consider knocking. Save yourself a lot of trouble that way."
Veronica had opened the bathroom door on her search for antiseptics, and had instead found Weevil and Gia rounding 3rd base on the grey tiled floor. With everything else, she hadn't realized that he'd left the main room.
"Couldn't you find something constructive to do, Weevil? I mean, I don't think seducing the seriously traumatized is a very highly-ranked survival strategy."
"I'm not actually complaining," Gia piped in as she covered herself.
"There, you see? There's no seduction. Well," he grinned, "maybe there was a little seduction involved. But what you see here is two people giving each other comfort during a stressful time. I'm no predator.
"And what exactly should I be doing, anyway? We're trapped. You hear 'em scrabbling around in the stairwell. We couldn't possibly fight our way through. I can't get more food, and there's no outside help for me to summon."
Hearing the situation laid out in such stark terms was threatening to chip away the thin barrier Veronica had been able to construct. It was nothing she didn't already realize, but she didn't want to hear it out loud, and she knew that what was coming next was worse.
Weevil's voice dropped to a calm, almost whisper. "We all know that even with all that, the biggest danger to us is inside this office. But you're definitely not going to let me do anything constructive about that right now - "
"Stop!" Veronica yelled. "Don't say anything else."
"Then get whatever you came for, and latch the door behind you."
***
After changing her dad's bandages and seeing him settled down for a rest, Veronica sat in front of her laptop and typed a message to Wallace. There was no reply, but he could have been anywhere. She had been gone for at least half an hour.
She briefly considered making a call to the Neptune Grand, but she found that those emotions were still too raw to deal with, even at the end of the world. Besides, the penthouse suite of the nicest hotel in town was probably one of the safest spots around.
Veronica was now confronted with the one thing she'd been trying to avoid since this whole thing started - inactivity. She didn't have anything to do, besides reassure herself that her dad's chest was still moving up and down.
Okay, if Wallace wasn't by his computer, he would still have his phone on him. He barely ever put the thing down to charge it.
***
"You know, they never beat them, right?" Weevil asked. He and Gia had taken seats with the rest of them in the reception room. Veronica hated to admit it when Weevil was right, but Gia had looked significantly calmer since their post-apocalyptic nookie. She now wore the same resigned expression as the rest of them.
"In the movies," Weevil continued. "They never stop. They spread and multiply and they just keep coming."
"They stop 'em sometimes," Cliff argued. He had recently finished the last of his gin, and he'd been staring at the bottle wistfully since. Veronica had started to wonder if he was still retaining his motor functions.
"I saw one where they killed all of them. Return of the Living Dead, that was the one."
"Wait," Veronica said. "I saw part of that once, late night TV. Didn't they nuke the city at the end?"
Cliff started giggling hysterically. "Yup, that's how you stop the zombie plague. I bet DC's running fallout estimates for it right now. How else do they keep it from escaping the coast, huh?"
"God, Cliff, that's really not funny!"
Weevil sighed. "I don't think it was trying to be, V."
Wallace had never picked up his phone, or responded to her messages. Veronica had still been holding out hope, if only because she couldn't stand the thought of her last words to him being "BRB." She had been stroking her dad's hand and just willing him to breathe a little longer, just until the deus ex machina, in the form of army tanks or a roving flamethrower-toting badass.
But Cliff was probably right, and her dad had stopped breathing ten minutes ago. She knew it was selfish, but she hoped Weevil didn't notice. He'd kept the pistol within his reach since they were in the stairwell, and she couldn't handle the thought of it pointed anywhere near her father's head. She'd rather die first, and that was looking like a strong possibility from whatever direction she looked.
Her dad's hand stirred against her arm and she squeezed him in the biggest bear hug of her life, crying silent tears into the plaid of his shirt. Weevil was yelling at her, but it hardly mattered; the sound of planes could be heard overhead.