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I did laundry! And I was not feeling all emo like last time! So, as has become my laundromat tradition, here is another installment of baseball zombie fic.
Installment the first.
Installment the second.
By unspoken agreement, the Red Sox had remained crowded in Manny and Kevin's room. The TV was still off; no one seemed to want to see what it might show them, whether more of the same or worse. They were settled in groups, talking amongst themselves in hushed voices. And frankly, the quiet was starting to wear on Kevin Millar's nerves. Finally, he spoke up.
"Okay," he said. "I think it's time to go raid some of your minibars. Anyone else?"
There was a relieved chorus of agreement, then some discussion of who would go. No one really wanted to leave, but in the end, Youk, Boomer, and Doug stripped pillowcases off pillows and collected room keys.
"We'll be right back," Doug said as they headed for the door. Youk winced.
"Don't say that. And let's stay together."
Doug and Boomer didn't argue.
The quiet talk resumed once they had gone, shredding Kevin's nerves even further. He looked over toward the TV several times. Manny saw him looking and touched his knee.
"No," he said softly. "I don't want to see."
Kevin sighed, but he hadn't figured out yet how to say no to Manny, so he nodded okay.
More talking, the same hushed atmosphere, Kevin's teeth on edge. Manny felt his tension and shifted closer, resting his head on Kevin's shoulder. Kevin pulled him in tight and it helped a little.
There was a clatter outside the door. Kevin blinked. They hadn't been gone that long already, had they?
Boomer's voice came faintly through the door. ". . . too many keys . . ." The violent pounding that came a second later made them all jump.
"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" Boomer hollered. Jason was closest, so he got up hastily and wrenched it open, then jumped back with a yelp as the three charged inside. Youk slammed the door resoundingly behind him.
Boomer reached into the half-full pillowcase he clutched, yanked out a bottle, opened it and slammed the contents down. His hands were shaking.
"Guess what?" he said. "We're not alone here."
**********
Kyle didn't even need to stop and think. He grabbed the nearest bat, bellowed, "DUCK!" and threw it hard. It flipped end over end through the air as Pudge threw himself and Peña to the ground, and - missed completely, whizzing over Nook's head and bouncing off the wall onto the floor.
"Fuck," Kyle snarled. Then Pudge was back on his feet, bat in hand.
He turned to Nook, who was climbing awkwardly to the floor, eyes on Peña, face working, making a sound that was sort of like a growl and sort of like a moan and sort of like all kinds of shit Kyle didn't want to think about.
"I'm sorry," Pudge said as he swung. And swung again, and again, the sound of the bat on Nook's - on its head echoing in the shocked silence.
"Pudge," Kyle said after a minute. Swing. Thick, meaty thunk. "Pudge . . . Pudge." Finally, he went over, wrapped an arm around Pudge's waist, and pulled the bat out of his hands. "Okay, Pudge. You got it. It's fuckin' dead already." It was, too, if the brain thing was like in that movie, 'cause Pudge had pretty much knocked the thing's brains out of its fucking head. Pudge leaned back against him, tense and trembling.
"I'll take care a' that thing," Kyle said quietly into his ear. "You take care a' Peña. He's gonna need a few Band-Aids on that." Peña was still sitting on the floor, cradling his hand, wide eyes flicking back and forth between Pudge and the - body. Kyle dropped his voice to a whisper and added, "You fucking keep it together, you hear?"
Pudge took a deep breath and nodded. Kyle let go and Pudge knelt next to Peña. "Come on. We need to clean that out."
Peña looked nervous, but allowed Pudge to help him up and take him to the bathroom.
Kyle cast a thoughtful eye over his shellshocked teammates. "Bondo," he decided, because it was Bondo who'd showed him that damn movie in the first place. "Grab a bat and come help me drag this shit outside."
Wonder how long I can keep this going?
Installment the first.
Installment the second.
By unspoken agreement, the Red Sox had remained crowded in Manny and Kevin's room. The TV was still off; no one seemed to want to see what it might show them, whether more of the same or worse. They were settled in groups, talking amongst themselves in hushed voices. And frankly, the quiet was starting to wear on Kevin Millar's nerves. Finally, he spoke up.
"Okay," he said. "I think it's time to go raid some of your minibars. Anyone else?"
There was a relieved chorus of agreement, then some discussion of who would go. No one really wanted to leave, but in the end, Youk, Boomer, and Doug stripped pillowcases off pillows and collected room keys.
"We'll be right back," Doug said as they headed for the door. Youk winced.
"Don't say that. And let's stay together."
Doug and Boomer didn't argue.
The quiet talk resumed once they had gone, shredding Kevin's nerves even further. He looked over toward the TV several times. Manny saw him looking and touched his knee.
"No," he said softly. "I don't want to see."
Kevin sighed, but he hadn't figured out yet how to say no to Manny, so he nodded okay.
More talking, the same hushed atmosphere, Kevin's teeth on edge. Manny felt his tension and shifted closer, resting his head on Kevin's shoulder. Kevin pulled him in tight and it helped a little.
There was a clatter outside the door. Kevin blinked. They hadn't been gone that long already, had they?
Boomer's voice came faintly through the door. ". . . too many keys . . ." The violent pounding that came a second later made them all jump.
"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" Boomer hollered. Jason was closest, so he got up hastily and wrenched it open, then jumped back with a yelp as the three charged inside. Youk slammed the door resoundingly behind him.
Boomer reached into the half-full pillowcase he clutched, yanked out a bottle, opened it and slammed the contents down. His hands were shaking.
"Guess what?" he said. "We're not alone here."
**********
Kyle didn't even need to stop and think. He grabbed the nearest bat, bellowed, "DUCK!" and threw it hard. It flipped end over end through the air as Pudge threw himself and Peña to the ground, and - missed completely, whizzing over Nook's head and bouncing off the wall onto the floor.
"Fuck," Kyle snarled. Then Pudge was back on his feet, bat in hand.
He turned to Nook, who was climbing awkwardly to the floor, eyes on Peña, face working, making a sound that was sort of like a growl and sort of like a moan and sort of like all kinds of shit Kyle didn't want to think about.
"I'm sorry," Pudge said as he swung. And swung again, and again, the sound of the bat on Nook's - on its head echoing in the shocked silence.
"Pudge," Kyle said after a minute. Swing. Thick, meaty thunk. "Pudge . . . Pudge." Finally, he went over, wrapped an arm around Pudge's waist, and pulled the bat out of his hands. "Okay, Pudge. You got it. It's fuckin' dead already." It was, too, if the brain thing was like in that movie, 'cause Pudge had pretty much knocked the thing's brains out of its fucking head. Pudge leaned back against him, tense and trembling.
"I'll take care a' that thing," Kyle said quietly into his ear. "You take care a' Peña. He's gonna need a few Band-Aids on that." Peña was still sitting on the floor, cradling his hand, wide eyes flicking back and forth between Pudge and the - body. Kyle dropped his voice to a whisper and added, "You fucking keep it together, you hear?"
Pudge took a deep breath and nodded. Kyle let go and Pudge knelt next to Peña. "Come on. We need to clean that out."
Peña looked nervous, but allowed Pudge to help him up and take him to the bathroom.
Kyle cast a thoughtful eye over his shellshocked teammates. "Bondo," he decided, because it was Bondo who'd showed him that damn movie in the first place. "Grab a bat and come help me drag this shit outside."
Wonder how long I can keep this going?
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and the image of pudge bludgeoning nook made me sad. :/ but kyle putting his arm around him didn't.
man i want more!
baseball zombies! who knew!
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I will say more later when I have time to properly SAVOR.
But, YAY.
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