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Okay. As promised, more baseball zombie fic. That is hella fun to write in a laundromat, much better than trying to read a book. It might just have to be my ongoing laundry activity.
See above link for disclaimer.
.
After he'd finished talking to Pudge, Derek sat there for a long moment, back against the wall, chin in his hands, elbows braced on his knees. What Pudge had told him about Nook Logan - which must, he realized now, be what had made Inge so determined to leave - was sobering at best. Derek had never been much for horror movies, and he still wasn't quite sure he believed that one was happening right now, but it wasn't hard to make the connecton between the bite Logan had gotten and his sudden, bizarre illness.
He would have to check everyone in the clubhouse, he decided, make sure no one was hiding an injury. He didn't know what he would do if he found one, but suddenly he couldn't seem to shake the image of Tanyon holding that bat.
He wondered how long they would have to wait here. Eventually, someone would have to notice that both teams were missing, if they hadn't already. Someone would arrive at the logical conclusion and send help. Meanwhile, though, there were a lot of upset people stuck in very close quarters. There had already been some sniping back and forth, and the longer they were all here, the more likely it was that tensions could end up erupting out of control.
For the first time, it occurred to Derek that after a certain point it might be safer to leave than to stay.
He heard the door open and looked up. "Weren't you keeping an eye on Inge?"
Tino sat down next to him. "Don't worry about it. Rodriguez is practically in his lap."
Derek blinked. ". . . Literally?" Because you never really knew with Alex. He wasn't so good with personal boundaries.
Tino laughed. "Almost. You know how he is. Captain Derek said Inge is going nowhere, so Inge is going fucking nowhere."
"Poor kid."
"Least he's safe." Tino turned a little to face Derek. "So what aren't you telling us?"
Derek looked at him for a long time, debating. Finally he asked, "So did you ever see Night of the Living Dead?"
**********
The Tigers were scattered in little clumps throughout the clubhouse. Some groups were talking quietly, others sitting in silence. All were darting occasional nervous glances at Nook.
Kyle Farnsworth, on the other hand, was sitting off by himself, watching. Watching the little groups, watching Nook, watching Pudge. Especially watching Pudge.
After Pudge had gotten off his phone the last time, he'd announced to the room that Brandon was okay and was staying with the Yankees. And that was it. He'd been listening to someone talk for almost ten goddamn minutes - Kyle was also watching the clock - and all he'd had to say was that Inge was fine. Which was great, yeah, and maybe he'd just been listening to Inge yak his ear off.
But probably not. Pudge had been taking careful care of Nook - changing the bandages on that nasty fucking bite, collecting clothes and shit to pile on him to try and keep him warm, praying over him - and there was just no fucking way he'd let Inge and his big mouth keep him away for that long.
Kyle was also thinking about that weirdass British movie Bondo'd made him watch a couple weeks ago, the one with a stupid pun for the title that told you everything you needed to know about the kind of lame jokes the movie was full of. It'd been fucking boring, mostly, except for the part where that asshole in glasses had gotten torn to pieces. He wasn't really thinking about that part right now, though, but about the part right before it, where it turned out that the mom had gotten bit and then she died from it. He was thinking about how, a few minutes after that, she'd gotten up real slow and woulda killed the rest of them if they hadn't had that gun.
He was thinking about that, and about how fast Nook had gotten sick, and about what had kept Pudge on the phone for so long, when Pudge knelt next to Nook and checked his pulse. And kept checking. Until he stopped and let his hand fall to his side and bowed his head with a shudder.
"Shit." Kyle heard himself loud in the sudden silence.
The room was perfectly still for almost a full minute, then Carlos Peña stood, almost tripped over himself trying to run before he was all the way up. "Pudge?"
Pudge looked up. "No, Carlos. Stay over there."
Kyle thought about the mom snarling and getting ready to lunge.
Peña ignored Pudge, crouched next to Nook and put his hands on his face. "No, Nook, c'mon . . ."
"Carlos!" Pudge was on his feet, angry voice not matching his scared face.
"Nook! No, look, Pudge, see, he's okay . . ."
Pudge jumped to push him away at the same moment as Peña screamed.
**********
Derek knew before he was halfway through that he had made the wrong decision. Tino's jaw seemed to tighten more with each sentence, Derek hurried through the rest. "I know how it sounds, believe me -"
"Yeah, Derek, no offense, but it sounds like you borrowed some of Sturtze's fucking crazy pills this morning."
"I know, I know, but come on, when you put it all together, it kind of seems -"
"It kind of seems like I-Rod is a crazy Catholic and Boomer was fucking drunk."
Derek wanted to say something along the lines of, yeah, we all know how the Catholic Church is just all about the undead, but he held it back. That wasn't going to help. "Fine. But you at least agree that we need to check and make sure no one's hurt."
Tino nodded tightly. "Yeah. And no spreading around this zombie shit."
Derek didn't think that needed an answer, so he just got up and went back out into the clubhouse.
See above link for disclaimer.
.
After he'd finished talking to Pudge, Derek sat there for a long moment, back against the wall, chin in his hands, elbows braced on his knees. What Pudge had told him about Nook Logan - which must, he realized now, be what had made Inge so determined to leave - was sobering at best. Derek had never been much for horror movies, and he still wasn't quite sure he believed that one was happening right now, but it wasn't hard to make the connecton between the bite Logan had gotten and his sudden, bizarre illness.
He would have to check everyone in the clubhouse, he decided, make sure no one was hiding an injury. He didn't know what he would do if he found one, but suddenly he couldn't seem to shake the image of Tanyon holding that bat.
He wondered how long they would have to wait here. Eventually, someone would have to notice that both teams were missing, if they hadn't already. Someone would arrive at the logical conclusion and send help. Meanwhile, though, there were a lot of upset people stuck in very close quarters. There had already been some sniping back and forth, and the longer they were all here, the more likely it was that tensions could end up erupting out of control.
For the first time, it occurred to Derek that after a certain point it might be safer to leave than to stay.
He heard the door open and looked up. "Weren't you keeping an eye on Inge?"
Tino sat down next to him. "Don't worry about it. Rodriguez is practically in his lap."
Derek blinked. ". . . Literally?" Because you never really knew with Alex. He wasn't so good with personal boundaries.
Tino laughed. "Almost. You know how he is. Captain Derek said Inge is going nowhere, so Inge is going fucking nowhere."
"Poor kid."
"Least he's safe." Tino turned a little to face Derek. "So what aren't you telling us?"
Derek looked at him for a long time, debating. Finally he asked, "So did you ever see Night of the Living Dead?"
**********
The Tigers were scattered in little clumps throughout the clubhouse. Some groups were talking quietly, others sitting in silence. All were darting occasional nervous glances at Nook.
Kyle Farnsworth, on the other hand, was sitting off by himself, watching. Watching the little groups, watching Nook, watching Pudge. Especially watching Pudge.
After Pudge had gotten off his phone the last time, he'd announced to the room that Brandon was okay and was staying with the Yankees. And that was it. He'd been listening to someone talk for almost ten goddamn minutes - Kyle was also watching the clock - and all he'd had to say was that Inge was fine. Which was great, yeah, and maybe he'd just been listening to Inge yak his ear off.
But probably not. Pudge had been taking careful care of Nook - changing the bandages on that nasty fucking bite, collecting clothes and shit to pile on him to try and keep him warm, praying over him - and there was just no fucking way he'd let Inge and his big mouth keep him away for that long.
Kyle was also thinking about that weirdass British movie Bondo'd made him watch a couple weeks ago, the one with a stupid pun for the title that told you everything you needed to know about the kind of lame jokes the movie was full of. It'd been fucking boring, mostly, except for the part where that asshole in glasses had gotten torn to pieces. He wasn't really thinking about that part right now, though, but about the part right before it, where it turned out that the mom had gotten bit and then she died from it. He was thinking about how, a few minutes after that, she'd gotten up real slow and woulda killed the rest of them if they hadn't had that gun.
He was thinking about that, and about how fast Nook had gotten sick, and about what had kept Pudge on the phone for so long, when Pudge knelt next to Nook and checked his pulse. And kept checking. Until he stopped and let his hand fall to his side and bowed his head with a shudder.
"Shit." Kyle heard himself loud in the sudden silence.
The room was perfectly still for almost a full minute, then Carlos Peña stood, almost tripped over himself trying to run before he was all the way up. "Pudge?"
Pudge looked up. "No, Carlos. Stay over there."
Kyle thought about the mom snarling and getting ready to lunge.
Peña ignored Pudge, crouched next to Nook and put his hands on his face. "No, Nook, c'mon . . ."
"Carlos!" Pudge was on his feet, angry voice not matching his scared face.
"Nook! No, look, Pudge, see, he's okay . . ."
Pudge jumped to push him away at the same moment as Peña screamed.
**********
Derek knew before he was halfway through that he had made the wrong decision. Tino's jaw seemed to tighten more with each sentence, Derek hurried through the rest. "I know how it sounds, believe me -"
"Yeah, Derek, no offense, but it sounds like you borrowed some of Sturtze's fucking crazy pills this morning."
"I know, I know, but come on, when you put it all together, it kind of seems -"
"It kind of seems like I-Rod is a crazy Catholic and Boomer was fucking drunk."
Derek wanted to say something along the lines of, yeah, we all know how the Catholic Church is just all about the undead, but he held it back. That wasn't going to help. "Fine. But you at least agree that we need to check and make sure no one's hurt."
Tino nodded tightly. "Yeah. And no spreading around this zombie shit."
Derek didn't think that needed an answer, so he just got up and went back out into the clubhouse.
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From:
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!!!!!!!!!
THIS IS SO FUCKING WEIRD, WHY IS IT SO FUCKING GOOD?
Seriously. This is just, like, all kinds of awesome, and continuing to be so. And! The Farns! Guns! The Farns likes guns! He's all, a hunter! Him and Bondo and Walker! And and and Pudge! Catholic! How can you write Pudge so realistic in a goddamn zombie story?? And Inge! And dude!
This is a lame comment, but I can't get over how much I'm enjoying this. I ENJOY IT. SO MUCH. Seriously, like, a lot. I can't sufficiently express it. Damn.
From:
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I don't know why this is good, and I don't know what it's turning into. I meant it to be total goofball stuff, but - oh, I don't know. Pudge refuses to have a sense of humor over Nook's pointless death. Spoilsport.
So I'm not sure where this is going to go, or how long it's going to last, or if there will be anything resembling an ending (okay, I doubt therw ill be), but I'm going to go with it and see what happens. If only because the idea of a pitcher taking out a zombie with a nasty curveball cannot be wasted.
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