I don't own anything. Not the LotR characters, nor those from ER, The Mummy, The Sentinel or The Pretender. They all belong to their respective owners (duh).

Not making any money off this, just doing this for my own peace of mind. Or a piece of my mind. Whatever. Just don't sue me please!!

I have no idea where this story is heading, but I'm sure it'll be loaded with action.

Please leave your reviews at the end of this chapter!

Rise of the Dead
Laura Hannivoort

County General Hospital, Chicago, Illinois

"Carter, wake up, we got a GSW on the way, ETA is 3 minutes!" Benton shouted from the doorway and switched on the lights. "Right, coming," answered a sleepy John Carter. He got up, took one look in the mirror and turned towards the door.

Suddenly he stopped, thought a moment and walked back towards the mirror. He felt a strange sensation and his vision started to unfocus. He closed his eyes, shook his head and when he looked up again, he wasn't looking at a mirror, but at a painting of a huge, white city, which seemed to be carved out of a mountain.

"What the…?" he whispered, looking around the room he was in. He noticed there were 6 beds in the room. In one of the beds lay a young child. A man sat next to him, probably had been for a couple of days, judging from the tired state he was in. He was broadshouldered and wearing armour. A sword and helmet were against a nearby wall. When he heard Carter, he looked up. He frowned, for he had never seen such strange robes before. "Excuse me, sir, but what is this place?" Carter asked the man.

"Why, you're in the Houses of Healing, of course. Who are you?" the man said.

"Um, I'm Carter, John Carter."

"I am called Faramir, son of Denethor. Why did you come here?"

"I, I eh, don't know, actually. I think I'm dreaming. I probably fell asleep again after Benton called me. I'll have to wake up again, I have a life to save."

"You are a healer?" Faramir interrupted his train of thoughts.

Carter looked up again. "Yes, you could say that. I'm a doctor."

"Could you look at my son? He became ill a few days ago, and our own healers do not know what is wrong with him."

"Sure, what's his name?" Carter aked. If this was a dream, someone would come barging in the lounge in a minute anyway, and just in case it wasn't a dream, he might as well do something useful.

"Boromir."

Why does that name sound so familiar? thought Carter as he walked up to the boy. "Boromir?" The boy opened his eyes. He was very pale and Carter could see the pain and fear in his eyes. "Hey there, how do you feel?" Carter asked.

"It hurts," the boy stammered as he clutched his right side.

"Alright, let me see that." He lifted the sheets and started pressing the boy's abdomen gently. He took his stethoscope, listened for a few minutes and looked up to Faramir. "I can't be sure without all the fancy equipment I'm used to working with, but I'm afraid your son has an appendicitis." Seeing the bewildered face on the father's face, he added. "A part of his gut is infected with bacteria, tiny little creatures trying to destroy his insides. I need to remove the infected part before it spreads to the rest of his body."

"How?" asked Faramir, frowning at Carter's words.

He probably thinks I'm crazy, talking about tiny invisible critters, while it's 'obviously' something magic, or punishment from some god, thought Carter. Aloud he said, "I need to make a small cut in his belly and cut the bad part out."

"Are you sure it will cure him?"

"I know that he won't survive if I don't do it. With the surgery, he has a good chance to survive," although I've never done it in this kind of situation, he added silently.

"You've done this before?"

"Yes, plenty of times. But I'm gonna need help. And surgical equipment. I need a big cooking pot with boiling water, some small but sharp knives, some kind of clamps, needles and thread. Any kind you can find. And a bottle of something alcoholic. The strongest you can find. Also if you can find anything to put him to sleep with, that'd be great." Don't forget an IV-stand, a couple of litres of saline, a few bags of O neg, an intubation set, a heart monitor, loads of antibiotics... geez, it'll be a miracle if the kid survives.

When Faramir returned with 2 men and 3 women along with the needed equipment, Carter started dividing the tasks. He ordered one man to keep his fingers on the boys neck and tap his foot in the rhythm of Boromir's heartbeat, the other man was on standby in case the boy needed some breathing support. Faramir had put the cooking pot on the fire, and dropped the knives, clamps, needles and thread in the boiling water. One of the women poured the alcohol on a nearby table, on which Faramir lay the hot instruments. Carter dug in his coat pockets and found a pair of latex gloves. He put them on and sighed. Now the challenge began.

Two hours later, Carter sewed the last bit of skin together. Considering the circumstances, he had done a pretty good job. The kid hadn't lost a lot of blood, and Carter hoped everything had been clean enough to prevent infection. Then there was the possibility of one of the 'sutures' rupturing, causing a massive infection. Well, there's nothing to be done about that now. He had done all he could. Now all that was left was to wait and see.

At that moment, the door opened and a man entered. He also wore armour, but his was a lot fancier than Faramir's. The man was tall and had long, black hair. He looked like he'd just fought a battle, which he probably had. Behind him came a woman, the most beautiful woman Carter had ever seen.

"Faramir, how is your son?" she asked in a clear voice.

"We came as soon as we received the message about Boromir. How is he?" the man added.

"I thank you for your concern, my King and Queen. If it were not for that healer," he pointed at Carter, "my son would have been dead, or dying."

The King turned to Carter. "I am grateful that you saved Boromir's life. What can I do for you in return?"

"I hate to say this, um, your Majesty, but the boy is not out of the danger zone yet. The surgery has many risks and he may not live after all."

"Yet you have done everything in your power, have you not?"

"I have."

"Then you are not to blame for what happens afterwards. Let me see him." The King moved towards the bed. He put a hand on the boy's forehead and the boy woke up. He looked at who was standing beside him, and smiled, looking a lot better already. The King asked him: "How do you feel, Boromir?"

"It still hurts, but not so much. Will I be all right, uncle Aragorn?" No one noticed Carter's head snap up at the sound of the name.

"You will be fine, rest now," Aragorn assured Boromir.

Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir? This can't be real. This is from a Tolkien book. That beautiful woman is probably Arwen.

"Arwen, we'll leave them to rest now. Healer, will you join us?" said Aragorn.

See, like I said, Arwen. "Of course, but I have one question. Where exactly am I?"

"In Minas Tirith, the White City of Gondor. You did not know?"

"Just wanted to make sure."

"Come, we need to talk."

Carter had followed Aragorn to his throne room. Aragorn looked at him closely, as if trying to determine whether he was a friend or a foe. "You are not from here, are you, young healer?" he asked.

"No, not exactly. My name is John Carter. I come from another world. This world is called Middle-Earth, right?" A nod from Aragorn. "My world is called Earth. We live in an entirely different way, although about 1500 years ago, our world looked kind of like yours, except that there are no other highly intelligent races but the human race. No hobbits, dwarves, elves, just men. In my world, us humans are our worst enemies, there are no orcs, goblins or trolls scouring the lands. Wild animals are only a small part of the deaths among people. Most are caused by ourselves, by our habits, and by other men, somehow disconnected from society. I don't know how I came here. I didn't even know this world really existed. I was at work at the hospital, when something strange happened and I ended up here in Minas Tirith."

"You have never been here? Then why do you know so much about Middle-Earth and its inhabitants?"

"Um, that's kind of hard to explain." Carter said. "You see, there are billions of writers all over the world. My world. A part of them write so called fantasy books. There's one guy, JRR Tolkien, who wrote the most famous of all fantasy books: The Lord of the Rings. A trilogy, describing a war against a Dark Lord. 4 hobbits, 2 men, a wizard, elf and a dwarf, seeking to destroy the One Ring."

"This is a strange thing. How would a man from another world know about the Quest?" Aragorn frowned.

"I have no idea. He might have been transported here during that time like I was just now, but even then, it'd be impossible to know all the details written in his book, all the things that happened."

"We shall not figure that out here and now. Do you know why you are here?"

"No, like I said, I was working at the hospital, when I suddenly found myself here. I don't know how to get back."

"Nor do I. There must be a meaning for you to have been sent here. A mission perhaps. When that mission is completed, maybe you'll find yourself back in that… hospital?"

"I hope so. No offense, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life here."

"Do you know how to wield a sword? If you are here for a mission, you might need it."

"No, sir… Lord… Majesty…"

"Aragorn."

"Aragorn. Not everyone on my world are trained for weapons. And even less are trained in swordfighting."

"Then I shall let someone teach you to fight. We are still waging battle in Mordor, to rid the land of all the orcs and other foul creatures, but Faramir will not join us until his son has recovered. He can spend his time training you."

"Thank you. I think."


Thebes, Egypt

They peeked into the entrance of the tomb. Rick O'Connell and his wife Evelyn were once again seeking treasures in dark, stuffy places. Their friend, Ardeth Bay, kept trying to change their minds. "O'Connell, some day, you two will get killed by a boobytrap, leaving your son miserable and alone."

"Not while we have a friend that always worries about us and watches our backs," Rick told him.

"Who would that be? I don't see him anywhere," Ardeth grinned.

"Ha, we'll see. You'll save my life before this day is over." Rick slowly entered the tomb, looking around for traps. He carefully made his way to the sarcophagus, which lay in the sunlight seeping in through a small hole.

Ardeth shook his head at Rick. He watched as Rick finally reached the coffin, when his sharp ears picked up a small sound. He launched himself at Rick, knocking him off his feet, just when a giant axe swung down on them, embedding itself in the stone sarcophagus. He looked at himself and Rick in the reflection of the axe, when they were suddenly surrounded by a bright white light.

When the light faded, he was still lying on top of Rick, but they weren't in the Sahara anymore. He moved away from Rick, and checked his surroundings. They were outside, and it was night. All around them were campfires and tents, and men armed with swords and protected by heavy armour sitting by the fires, talking quietly. Off to his left, Ardeth saw the outline of a large city against the lingering dusk, or the coming dawn, he wasn't sure which.

Ardeth got to his feet and pulled Rick up. He motioned Rick to be quiet and snuck behind one of the tents. They heard voices inside the tent.

"My Lord, the orcs seem to be pulling back, going north. They are heading for the Dead Marshes."

"Good, the further away they go, the better. However, I am concerned that they are being led by someone, they are becoming more organised. If they go back to the Marshes to regain strength and gather more forces, they could come back to attack Gondor."

"Led, sir? By whom?"

"I do not know. We must find out."

"Yes, my Lord. I shall send forces to follow them. If they are reorganising, we will know about it and we will be ready to defend the city, should they attack us. I shall also send messengers towards Rohan, to inform them of our current situation. Depending on how many orcs are left, and whether dark creatures from other regions join them, we might need help fighting them off."

"That will be just fine, Brignor."

Rick and Ardeth jumped up, because the voice came from behind. They found themselves eye to eye with a tall man, in full armour, who had one sword under Ardeth's chin and a knife under Rick's.

"Now tell me who you are and why you are spying in my camp."

Ardeth straightened. "My name is Ardeth Bay, and this is Rick O'Connell. We weren't spying, we were trying to find out where we are."

"And did the conversation you overheard help you find out?" The man didn't look like he believed them.

"Well, we know we are probably in Gondor, but frankly, I don't have a clue where that is. A few minutes ago, we were in Egypt, now we seem to be in another world or something."

"Another world?" The man raised an eyebrow. "You do not seem to be the only ones. Have you heard of a John Carter?"

"John Carter? No, I can't say I have."

Rick raised his hand. "I know a John Carter. He was a gardener at my parent's house. Really old guy."

"The one I'm talking about is quite young still. I am called Aragorn, King of Gondor. Come with me to my city, where we will discuss things. Strange things seem to be happening and I need to know the meaning."

Cascade, Washington

After a hard day's work, Detective Jim Ellison was on his way home. He was just three blocks away when he heard a gunshot. Skidding to a stop, Jim jumped out of his car and ran into the warehouse where the gunshot came from, all senses on full alert.

"How did they find me this fast? They shouldn't have arrived here until tomorrow night." Jim heard a man softly talking to himself on the other side of the building. Not far from the man he heard three heartbeats heading toward the man.

Jim made his way to the other side as fast as he could without giving himself away. The threesome had reached the other man.

"What's the matter, Jarod?" he heard a woman say, "didn't think we'd find you, did you? You know, my orders are to bring you back to the Center alive, and preferably unharmed. Oh well, we can always say you were trying to escape us."

When Jim entered the room, he saw the woman raising her gun at the man standing before her. Without hesitation, he ran towards the man. Just as he reached him, Jim heard the blast of a bullet being fired, felt the searing pain as metal sliced though skin, flesh and bone. Unable to stop his momentum, both he and the man he just saved crashed through the window. Right before he blacked out, he saw their reflection rising up to them in the puddle on the ground, five feet below them.


Jarod was sure that this time, he wouldn't be able to escape. They had found him too soon, he wasn't prepared for it. He saw Miss Parker raise her weapon, while at the same moment, a movement to his right caught his attention. Someone was moving toward him. Running. The man reached him, just as Miss Parker fired her weapon. Jarod felt the air being knocked out of his lungs, the window breaking behind him and before he realised it, they were falling. He closed his eyes and prepared for the impact. It didn't come.

He opened his eyes and looked around. They seemed to be lying in a park or something. The grass was neatly trimmed, white stone around him, a white tree towering above them. He became aware of something warm trickling down his chest. Then he remembered the other man. He looked down and saw that his chest was covered with blood. But it wasn't his own blood. It was from the guy who saved him. The man had taken a bullet meant for him.

Then Jarod heard voices and footsteps. People were running towards them. Men in armour, with swords in their hands. The one Jarod assumed was the leader, motioned for the others to stand back, while he himself came nearer. He knelt beside them and inspected the other man's wounds.

"Are you hurt?" he asked Jarod.

"No, I don't think I am. Where am I?" said Jarod.

"Now is not the time for questions. We must first help your friend." He carefully lifted the wounded man and carried him through the nearby gates and down into the city, Jarod following close behind.


Jim found himself slowly regaining access to the real world. He heard some voices around him, saw a bit of light through his closed eyelids, but most of all, he felt the pain in his right arm.

Oh shit, I got shot, he thought. Not wanting to open his eyes yet, he searched out for his Guide, Blair Sandburg. He tried to hear his Guide's voice, but couldn't find it. He tried to smell his herbal shampoo, again without success. But there was something strange. He should be in a hospital by now, but the scents were nowhere near hospital scents. On the edge of panic, he tried once again to find the voice of his Guide. Nothing. There was a voice that had nearly the same feeling as Blair's, but not quite the same. Then he decided to open his eyes. He had to know what was going on.

Even though he knew he wasn't in a hospital, he still expected to see a white ceiling with bright lights. He was surprised when he saw a wooden ceiling, with wooden beams and dimmed lights.

I'm definitely not in Cascade anymore. He was in a large room, almost like a hall. There were more beds. A couple were occupied by men who looked like they've been in a fight. In one of the beds was a little boy. Women were running around with bowls of hot water, tending to the others. Next to him sat two men. One he recognised as the one he saved, the other was unknown to him. He was wearing a doctor's coat and had a stethoscope around his neck. 'Dr. Carter' it said on the coat.

"Welcome back, Detective Ellison. How do you feel?" said Carter.

"Confused. Is this a hospital or not?" asked Jim.

"Well, that depends. It is not the kind of hospital as the three of us know it, but the people here refer to this place as the Houses of Healing. So you could see it as a hospital."

"Where is 'here'?"

"Uh, that's kind of hard to explain. Have you ever heard of Minas Tirith?"

"Of course I have. Despite what my partner believes, I do read some books. And I've seen the movie."

"Well, that's where we are."

"Right, and in a minute, Aragorn and Arwen will step into the room," said Jim sarcastically.

"No, they won't," said Jarod, looking to the other side of the room.

Jim turned his head to the direction Jarod was looking. A man and a woman were standing there. He hadn't heard them come in, because people were continuously leaving and entering the room. The man was wearing armour and a crown. He had the stature of a king. The woman was more beautiful than any he had ever seen. There was no mistaking the pointed ears of an Elf.

Jim was not sure whether he was dreaming or not. It certainly felt real, even more real than the visions he occasionally had, and those visions had always been frighteningly realistic.

"Welcome to the White City and to the land of Gondor. How is your arm?" asked the man who had to be Aragorn.

"It hurts, but it seems to be lessening a bit."

"The bullet had struck the bone, so I had to remove it and set your arm," said Carter. "I think that with rest, it'll heal nicely and you'll regain full use of your arm."

"Thanks," said Jim. "Now I can see that you two aren't from around here either. What happened, how the hell did we end up in Middle-Earth?"

"We don't know. I'm from Chicago, and I reckon about the same time frame as you and Jarod. There are two others, who were in Egypt in 1930 when they ended up here, a few days after I arrived."

Aragorn took a few steps forward. "I do not know the reason why you are here. It might be for a mission or it might not. But I will do what is in my power to help you all get back to your own worlds."

TO BE CONTINUED...


Well, that's it for now. I hope you enjoyed it so far. If you want more of this, please review and let me know, or I might never have the inspiration or motivation to continue this!!