Daria looked up from reading a book on the couch, nonplussed. "Right here, dad. The pink one is upstairs - she said one of her fashion leeches went nuts on her and she didn't want to be disturbed for the rest of the day."
"Daria!" Jake ignored most of what his daughter said. "Haven't you been watching TV?"
"Well, Sick, Sad World had a special on history's most grotesque sports injuries, but the sports part turned me off after a while, so -"
"Damnit, Daria, there's an outbreak going on!"
Daria sighed and closed her book; she'd clearly be spending the next few minutes massaging her father's latest paranoid fear. "Okay, dad, an outbreak of what?"
"The T virus! There are zombies EVERYWHERE! I almost DIED!"
Daria's mouth opened a fraction of an inch before she realized her father must have finally sailed off the deep end at work that day. "That's nice, dad," she finally muttered as she edged towards the phone. "I'll call up the men in white coats and make all the zombies go away." She was relieved that Helen had had the prescience to put the loony bin on speed dial for such an eventuality.
"Daria, I'm telling you the truth! You've got to believe me!" Jake knew about the speed dial, as he had accidentally pressed it while trying to call up the Good Times Chinese Restaurant.
Daria sighed and, despite herself, put the phone back on the hook. "Okay, dad, I'll go show you there are no zombies, and then -"
Just then, there was a loud crashing noise from upstairs, as well as incoherent moaning. Daria and Jake's eyes slid towards the stairwell.
"You know, I think I heard Quinn say something about being bitten," Daria said trepidatiously. She wondered if trepidatiously was even a word.
"Stay behind me, kiddo," Jake said determinedly. Daria wondered if determinedly was a word.
Jake pulled an umbrella out of the umbrella stand which stood next to the door and began slowly ascending the staircase, Daria behind him ready to brain Quinn with her book if necessary. (It was a big one - hardcover, to boot). The disturbing sounds continued unabated.
Finally, they reached the second floor. Jake peeked into Quinn's room. "Quinn? You in here?" Jake called out lamely. It was clear SOMEthing had happened - several of the drawers of Quinn's dresser had been turned out and ransacked, and her jewelry box was upended and scattered across the floor - but no sign of Quinn.
Daria tapped her father on her shoulder and gestured to the master bedroom, the door of which was hanging wide open. The noises also seemed to be coming from there. Jake grimly nodded and advanced forward to see what awaited them.
Quinn - or a Quinn-shaped person - was in the bedroom, half-hidden in the closet as she dug around inside for reasons unknown. "Quinn?" Daria asked, her voice high-pitched with fear.
Quinn - or what used to be Quinn - whipped around, snarling. Her skin had already gone pale from death, her eyes a milky white. Her hair, strangely enough, had all fallen out, save a strip in the shape of a mohawk. In her state of manicness, she had seized upon every gold or gold-colored necklace from her room and put them on, and was now apparently searching for similar trinkets in her mother's things.
"I PITY THE FOOL!" Quinn roared as she charged Jake. Simultaneously, the sound of breaking glass and splintering wood could be heard downstairs, amid cries of "EAT SOMEBODY OR EAT SOMEBODY'S BRAINS" and "MOHAWK GRENADES!"
Just before Quinn impaled herself on the business end of Jake's umbrella, Daria facepalmed. "The T virus? Oh COME ON."