From: cofax@mindspring.com   
      
   Title: Last Stand   
   Author: cofax   
   Summary: zombies and goats   
   Spoilers: none   
   Rating: PG   
   Notes: Written for the La La La 2004 ficathon on Livejournal.   
   Feedback makes me do the wacky; send it to cofax@mindspring.com.   
      
      
   Last Stand   
   October 2004   
      
      
      
   "This is your fault, Mulder."  Scully balanced the rifle on the window   
   ledge and squeezed the trigger.  *Bang*, and another one stumbled and   
   fell.   
      
   That left only four hundred and ninety-nine shambling bodies   
   surrounding the Iowa farmhouse.   
      
   "*My* fault?"  Mulder paused, there was a shot, and then he continued.   
    "How is it *my* fault you wouldn't believe the evidence of your own   
   autopsy?"   
      
   The crowd separated, and a smaller group of about forty headed off to   
   the barn about fifty yards for the house.  Scully winced in sympathy   
   for the animals inside.  The FBI agents hadn't had time to check, in   
   their frenzied dash for cover, but she suspected there were at the   
   least chickens and goats in the barn.   
      
   The chain of circumstances leading to their situation, trapped in an   
   isolate farmhouse and at risk of their lives, was tangled, but it   
   involved an investigation of an alleged infestation of the Maple Run   
   high school by endangered bats, an assault by a late-night pizza   
   delivery man (Scully rubbed the bump on her head where the malodorous   
   teen had tried to chew through to her cerebellum), and Mulder coming   
   to her rescue with the ancient, and therefore, heavy, motel telephone.   
    Scully wasn't sure what was going on, but she certainly knew who to   
   blame.   
      
   "My autopsy was interrupted, as you well know," *bang*, "and I didn't   
   have time to run any of the tests I wanted."   
      
   There was a crash from behind her, and Scully spun around to see   
   Mulder swinging a kitchen chair against a greenish arm protruding   
   through the broken window.  "Interrupted by the dead rising, Scully!"   
      
   Scully grabbed the baseball bat and with one fierce swing, shattered   
   the groping arm.  There was a moan and the arm withdrew, leaving ...   
   *bits* on the broken windowpane.  "No time to board it up," Scully   
   said.  "Let's use the couch."   
      
   The couch must have weighed seven tons, and was upholstered in a tough   
   green vinyl that went out in the early sixties.  But the heavy steel   
   frame would be better protection from their attackers than a piece of   
   plywood would, anyway.  When they got it upended against the window,   
   Scully returned to her post, rifle in hand.   
      
   "I'm not going to say the dead rose unless I *know* they're actually   
   dead, Mulder.  Maybe you didn't kill the Mike Jenkins when you hit him   
   with the phone.  This could be some form of mass hysteria associated   
   with a fungal infection, maybe distributed through the water supply.   
   If the colonists in Salem had their rye poisoned with ergot--"   
      
   Mulder squeezed in next to her, edging her to the left so he could see   
   out the window to shoot.  "If they're the ones having hallucinations   
   from tainted water, Scully, why are *we* the ones watching them drop   
   pieces of themselves in the farmyard?"   
      
   There was a bang and a body flew out the barn door, followed by three   
   goats, dappled black and white.   
      
   "Because *you* insisted on investigating this case, Mulder."  *bang*   
   Another one dropped, but six more stepped over the body and kept   
   coming, green faces gleaming with dulled enthusiasm, arms outstretched.   
      
   The lead goat, a hefty fellow with a nice set of horns, plowed into   
   the crowd, sending several bodies flying.  Scully suspected the goats   
   were more likely to survive than she was.  Whatever these -- she   
   wasn't going to say "zombies", she wasn't -- afflicted individuals   
   were after, the goats didn't have it.   
      
   *Bang*   
      
   "*You* insisted on staying in Maple Run even after the bat thing   
   turned out to be preparations for the school Halloween party, Mulder."   
      
   *Bang*   
      
   There was a crash from the back of the house, where they'd bolted the   
   kitchen door.  That wasn't going to hold much longer, and all the   
   phones had proved useless.   
      
   "Oh, c'mon, Scully!  Zombies!  Isn't this just a little cool?"  Mulder   
   raised an eyebrow at her, and she resisted the urge to hit him on the   
   head with the butt of her gun.   
      
   "If we die here, Mulder, I'm going to kill you."   
      
   *Bang*   
      
      
   END   
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
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