Title: Last Stand
Author: cofax
Summary: zombies and goats
Spoilers: none
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for the La La La 2004 ficathon on Livejournal. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

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