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r4punz3lTitle: Vampires vs. Zombies PRT
Chapter Rating: R, for language, ultraviolent zombie mayhem.
Chapter Summary: In which Glenn Beck tries to crush the opposition, Rachel continues her journey, and Jon, Stephen and company stop for gas.
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement
All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Word Count: ~1200
Author's Note: Continued thanks tothemistoklis for beta-reading and constructive suggestions.
Previous chapters
Chapter 26
Glenn Beck sank back into his chair, exhausted. He was drenched with sweat, and his face was flushed. “Oh, my God,” he gasped.
“It’s very draining,” Orly said, “To move your minions around as you are. But you’ve got to get every last pocket of resistance.”
“Oh, my God,” Beck said again. He leaned forward and rested his head against his desk. “Can’t believe she burned them. She burned so many of them.”
“Half the city’s on fire, now,” O’Reilly observed from the doorway. “We might have to evacuate if the flames move this way. And you’re concerned that someone burned a few zombies?” He stepped inside, and looked around. “Are you talking to Orly?” he asked, seeing no one else in the room but Beck.
Beck nodded. “She’s hanging around with that Demetrius.” He shrugged. “So, what’s the deal with you and him, anyway?”
O’Reilly came inside the office, and slowly walked around the room. “Didn’t you hear?” he asked. “My grandfather evidently made a deal with Demetrius. Gave him his blood to keep the family safe. My grandfather’s blood is partly my blood. He could command me if he wanted.”
“But Orly can command you, too,” Beck pointed out. “That night in the deli, when we first met, she tried to make you do something.”
O’Reilly looked down at his palms. The faint, crescent scars were still there, though a bit faded now, closer to the skin tone of his hand. “Yes, she did,” he agreed.
“But she couldn’t,” Beck said.
“Because I fought,” O’Reilly spat. “Unlike you. You’ve jumped into this mess head first.”
“It seemed like the best way to get things done,” Beck said. He leaned back in his chair. “So, Demetrius is like Orly’s dad, which is why she could persuade you, if you let her.”
“Right,” O’Reilly said warily. He did not like the direction Beck was taking the conversation. “So, since Orly made me, that makes Demetrius my grandfather. So, could I control you?”
“Not a chance in hell,” O’Reilly said, smiling.
Beck smiled back. “It looks like I’ve got my second wind,” he said. “Get out of here, Bill. I’ve got work to do. And Bill,” he called. O’Reilly paused in the doorway and looked back. “I would never try to persuade you like that. Don’t worry about it.”
O’Reilly frowned. Beck grinned. “I can hear your heart beating, man,” he said. “It’s like a hummingbird. If you’re going to lie, you’ve got to stay calmer than that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” O’Reilly said dryly as he left the room. As he walked down the hallway, he wondered if there was anywhere in the building where he could be sure no one could here him. Seeing as he was now living with three vampires, he rather doubted it.
&&&
“Oh, shit!” Olivia cried. The zombies weren’t moving in lockstep, but seeing hundreds of them moving in the same direction was a terrifying site. “Aasif, get us out of here!”
Aasif threw the van into gear, and accelerated, making the tires squeal.
“Where are you going?” Jon yelled from the back. “We’ve got to get to Fox!”
“Where do you think they’re all coming from?” Aasif shouted. He wrenched the wheel sharply to the right, and then smoothed the van’s course back out. In the back, Ivy, Rebecca, and Adam were tossed wildly back and forth.
“This is not fun,” Rebecca said.
“We gotta find another way,” Stephen said. “Jon, what other way is there to Fox?”
“I’m thinking,” Jon said, trying to grab hold to the side of the van. His grip kept slipping, and Stephen reached out, and held him close.
“Think faster,” he said.
“Think shorter,” Olivia said. “We’re running low on gas, and I don’t want to try and fill up.”
“Do you have any bombs left, Adam?” Ivy asked.
“If I did, they’d have blown up by now,” Adam replied. He stretched out on the floor, and reached his arms out. Carefully, he braced himself between the van walls, feet pressed against one wall, hands against the opposite side.
“Show off,” Rebecca muttered. “What if you’re not tall enough to do that?”
“How can we stop them?” Ivy asked out loud. “How do they stop the hordes of zombies in the movies?”
“Kill the leader,” Rebecca said.
“That’s what we’re trying to do. Hence, the zombie army,” Jon said.
“Burn the book that made them,” Adam said.
“There’s no book in this film,” Olivia said.
“Well, then let’s just burn them,” Ivy said.
“Are you kidding?” Jon asked. “They’re walking death. Set them on fire, and they’ll light up the city.”
“Got any better ideas?’ Ivy retorted.
“Shoot them,” Jon said flatly.
“There isn’t enough ammunition in the Western Hemisphere,” Aasif said. He had slowed to about forty miles per hour, but the zombies still filled the rearview mirror. “Crap.”
“Find a gas station,” Ivy said. “Adam could at least find parts for another bomb.”
“Jon?” Aasif asked.
“Why is this my call?’ Jon demanded.
“Because you’re the boss!” Olivia, Aasif, and Stephen said all at once. Stephen’s voice was softer, and far more reassuring that Olivia’s shriek.
“Fine!” Jon said. “Gas station it is.”
“Thank you!” Aasif said. He swung a hard left, flinging everyone off balance. Adam lost his grip, and fell, banging his head on the wall of the van. “Ouch,” he muttered.
The van screeched to a halt. “We’re here,” Aasif said shortly. “Now what?”
Ivy clambered over Adam and Stephen, and opened the van door. “Now we see what we can find,” she said.
&&&
Rachel drove the minivan through the streets of New York. The roads were mostly clear, but she could see pockets of fighting, and smoke. The city was burning.
“And it’s my fault,” Rachel said. “Gotta fix it.” She didn’t dare stop to help. Her status as controller of the walking dead had been uncertain enough with her dearest friends. She doubted it would be considered a useful skill among total strangers. Instead, she thought as hard as she could about what she was going to do to Glenn Beck when she got her hands on him.
In her pocket, her phone vibrated. Rachel reached down, and pulled it out. Carefully, without taking her eyes off the road, she brought the phone up to the steering wheel, so she could read it.
“Where are you?’ she said, reading the text aloud. It was from Jon.
Rachel glanced at the street signs as she passed, and texted back. “And they said texting and driving would kill you,” Rachel said, as she waited for a response.
Jon replied after a long pause. Rachel was beginning to worry that the cell grid was failing when she finally got an answer. “You’re close,” she read. “Meet us at the Seven Eleven, five blocks up from your last position.”
“By the way, this is Stephen,” the next message said. “Jon is busy making Molotov cocktails. The kind you can’t drink.” Rachel grinned at that.
“See you soon,” she replied. She carefully tucked her phone away. Then she adjusted her mirrors, and floored it.
Chapter Rating: R, for language, ultraviolent zombie mayhem.
Chapter Summary: In which Glenn Beck tries to crush the opposition, Rachel continues her journey, and Jon, Stephen and company stop for gas.
Disclaimer: #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement
All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Word Count: ~1200
Author's Note: Continued thanks to
themistoklis for beta-reading and constructive suggestions.Previous chapters
Chapter 26
Glenn Beck sank back into his chair, exhausted. He was drenched with sweat, and his face was flushed. “Oh, my God,” he gasped.
“It’s very draining,” Orly said, “To move your minions around as you are. But you’ve got to get every last pocket of resistance.”
“Oh, my God,” Beck said again. He leaned forward and rested his head against his desk. “Can’t believe she burned them. She burned so many of them.”
“Half the city’s on fire, now,” O’Reilly observed from the doorway. “We might have to evacuate if the flames move this way. And you’re concerned that someone burned a few zombies?” He stepped inside, and looked around. “Are you talking to Orly?” he asked, seeing no one else in the room but Beck.
Beck nodded. “She’s hanging around with that Demetrius.” He shrugged. “So, what’s the deal with you and him, anyway?”
O’Reilly came inside the office, and slowly walked around the room. “Didn’t you hear?” he asked. “My grandfather evidently made a deal with Demetrius. Gave him his blood to keep the family safe. My grandfather’s blood is partly my blood. He could command me if he wanted.”
“But Orly can command you, too,” Beck pointed out. “That night in the deli, when we first met, she tried to make you do something.”
O’Reilly looked down at his palms. The faint, crescent scars were still there, though a bit faded now, closer to the skin tone of his hand. “Yes, she did,” he agreed.
“But she couldn’t,” Beck said.
“Because I fought,” O’Reilly spat. “Unlike you. You’ve jumped into this mess head first.”
“It seemed like the best way to get things done,” Beck said. He leaned back in his chair. “So, Demetrius is like Orly’s dad, which is why she could persuade you, if you let her.”
“Right,” O’Reilly said warily. He did not like the direction Beck was taking the conversation. “So, since Orly made me, that makes Demetrius my grandfather. So, could I control you?”
“Not a chance in hell,” O’Reilly said, smiling.
Beck smiled back. “It looks like I’ve got my second wind,” he said. “Get out of here, Bill. I’ve got work to do. And Bill,” he called. O’Reilly paused in the doorway and looked back. “I would never try to persuade you like that. Don’t worry about it.”
O’Reilly frowned. Beck grinned. “I can hear your heart beating, man,” he said. “It’s like a hummingbird. If you’re going to lie, you’ve got to stay calmer than that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” O’Reilly said dryly as he left the room. As he walked down the hallway, he wondered if there was anywhere in the building where he could be sure no one could here him. Seeing as he was now living with three vampires, he rather doubted it.
&&&
“Oh, shit!” Olivia cried. The zombies weren’t moving in lockstep, but seeing hundreds of them moving in the same direction was a terrifying site. “Aasif, get us out of here!”
Aasif threw the van into gear, and accelerated, making the tires squeal.
“Where are you going?” Jon yelled from the back. “We’ve got to get to Fox!”
“Where do you think they’re all coming from?” Aasif shouted. He wrenched the wheel sharply to the right, and then smoothed the van’s course back out. In the back, Ivy, Rebecca, and Adam were tossed wildly back and forth.
“This is not fun,” Rebecca said.
“We gotta find another way,” Stephen said. “Jon, what other way is there to Fox?”
“I’m thinking,” Jon said, trying to grab hold to the side of the van. His grip kept slipping, and Stephen reached out, and held him close.
“Think faster,” he said.
“Think shorter,” Olivia said. “We’re running low on gas, and I don’t want to try and fill up.”
“Do you have any bombs left, Adam?” Ivy asked.
“If I did, they’d have blown up by now,” Adam replied. He stretched out on the floor, and reached his arms out. Carefully, he braced himself between the van walls, feet pressed against one wall, hands against the opposite side.
“Show off,” Rebecca muttered. “What if you’re not tall enough to do that?”
“How can we stop them?” Ivy asked out loud. “How do they stop the hordes of zombies in the movies?”
“Kill the leader,” Rebecca said.
“That’s what we’re trying to do. Hence, the zombie army,” Jon said.
“Burn the book that made them,” Adam said.
“There’s no book in this film,” Olivia said.
“Well, then let’s just burn them,” Ivy said.
“Are you kidding?” Jon asked. “They’re walking death. Set them on fire, and they’ll light up the city.”
“Got any better ideas?’ Ivy retorted.
“Shoot them,” Jon said flatly.
“There isn’t enough ammunition in the Western Hemisphere,” Aasif said. He had slowed to about forty miles per hour, but the zombies still filled the rearview mirror. “Crap.”
“Find a gas station,” Ivy said. “Adam could at least find parts for another bomb.”
“Jon?” Aasif asked.
“Why is this my call?’ Jon demanded.
“Because you’re the boss!” Olivia, Aasif, and Stephen said all at once. Stephen’s voice was softer, and far more reassuring that Olivia’s shriek.
“Fine!” Jon said. “Gas station it is.”
“Thank you!” Aasif said. He swung a hard left, flinging everyone off balance. Adam lost his grip, and fell, banging his head on the wall of the van. “Ouch,” he muttered.
The van screeched to a halt. “We’re here,” Aasif said shortly. “Now what?”
Ivy clambered over Adam and Stephen, and opened the van door. “Now we see what we can find,” she said.
&&&
Rachel drove the minivan through the streets of New York. The roads were mostly clear, but she could see pockets of fighting, and smoke. The city was burning.
“And it’s my fault,” Rachel said. “Gotta fix it.” She didn’t dare stop to help. Her status as controller of the walking dead had been uncertain enough with her dearest friends. She doubted it would be considered a useful skill among total strangers. Instead, she thought as hard as she could about what she was going to do to Glenn Beck when she got her hands on him.
In her pocket, her phone vibrated. Rachel reached down, and pulled it out. Carefully, without taking her eyes off the road, she brought the phone up to the steering wheel, so she could read it.
“Where are you?’ she said, reading the text aloud. It was from Jon.
Rachel glanced at the street signs as she passed, and texted back. “And they said texting and driving would kill you,” Rachel said, as she waited for a response.
Jon replied after a long pause. Rachel was beginning to worry that the cell grid was failing when she finally got an answer. “You’re close,” she read. “Meet us at the Seven Eleven, five blocks up from your last position.”
“By the way, this is Stephen,” the next message said. “Jon is busy making Molotov cocktails. The kind you can’t drink.” Rachel grinned at that.
“See you soon,” she replied. She carefully tucked her phone away. Then she adjusted her mirrors, and floored it.
