Zombies! Werewolves! Virgins! Birds!

Chapter 1: The thoughts that give me the creeps

'Zombies,' Stiles told a bored Scott, during the long bus drive to their field trip's special Halloween destination, 'are pretty much always the same. Sure, sometimes they're fast and sometimes they're slow. Sometimes they're ragey. Sometimes they're cognisant. Sometimes they're mindless, hungry machines. Never mind all that. Two things never change: they're dead; they eat human flesh. Those are the two things that make a zombie a zombie.'

'Scott, are you listening?' Stiles exclaimed. Taking note of the fact that his best friend was still gaping at the new girl instead of listening to Stiles' apocalyptic babbling, Stiles jabbed Scott in the ribs to get his attention.

'So, if we are actually going to a place where there are zombies, which we're not, because there's no such thing, but let's pretend for a second that zombies exist,' Stiles continued. He waited for Scott to nod. Scott dutifully did, though his heart was clearly not in it. Nevertheless, Stiles soldiered on.

'Here's what's going to happen. Someone, somewhere along the line, is going to make a mistake, because that's what people do. And then there will be zombies everywhere and we'll be dead or zombies!'

In short: they were all going to die. Horribly. Scott considered that for a while.

'Probably both,' he finally said.

'What?' Stiles stammered, confused.

'Because zombies are dead, right?' Scott pointed out, earning himself a glare from Stiles.

'Are you trying to be funny?'

'Sorry,' Scott said sheepishly, as if he was just now realising that Stiles was deadly serious. In front of them, Danny coughed, but it sounded suspiciously like a disguised laugh. Why did no one get this? Either this was an elaborate hoax - in which case: haha, phew - or they were walking right into a zombie dinner party. Despite Scott's best efforts to hold him back, Stiles stood up and raised his voice.

'Am I the only one who has seen a little movie called Jurassic Park? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?'

Stiles' classmates didn't respond except to snicker at him. Jackson openly and loudly questioned his sanity. Remembering that he was in charge and supposed to maintain some form of order, Coach Finstock bellowed a command.

'Stilinski, take your medication and sit down!'

'Dude,' Scott whispered, urgently. Scowling, Stiles sat back down as dignified as was possible under the circumstances, which wasn't very.

'Never mind,' he huffed. 'Just remember that I warned you. Mark my words: this will not end well.'

(***)

An hour later, the coach announced that they were travelling the rest of the way by boat. If Stiles' calculations were correct, that meant that the boat trip would take them to Red Rock Island. He had suspected something like this. Where better to keep zombies than on an island? Anyway, Stiles knew – he'd looked it up – that Red Rock Island was privately owned by someone unknown, which was sinister. Well, at least the government wasn't involved. That was something. Government involvement was never good when it came to monsters. You only had to look at Buffy for proof of that.

Long before reaching the island they could see the facility. It was a huge square building without windows; surely soon to be the scene of multiple murders. Stiles sighed and wondered why he had been born with such a lively imagination. When they finally entered the facility, he got a shock.

'Oh my God!'

'You got that right,' Scott agreed, but he wasn't even facing the right way. Stiles tugged at his sleeve and inconspicuously nodded at the source of his amazement.

'It's Derek Hale,' Stiles hissed. He was almost hyperventilating; he was so excited.

'Who?' Scott muttered, glancing at Derek for barely a second before his gaze returned to whatever it was he had been looking at before.

'Derek Hale!' Stiles repeated. He was ready to blurt out everything he knew about Derek, but he knew that it would be pointless. Scott was beyond preoccupied; staring at something at the other side of the enormous room. Not hard to guess what.

'I'll let you get back to your pining,' Stiles said. Scott shook his head. Stiles was kind of taken aback by the fierceness of the gesture. Surprised, Stiles watched Scott tear his gaze away from his never-to-be girlfriend and fix it on Stiles.

'I'm not looking at Allison, Stiles. I'm looking at the zombies,' Scott explained, which wasn't funny at all. Why oh why did no one ever take Stiles seriously? It was exhausting.

'There are no zombies,' Stiles scoffed, until Scott pointed and Stiles saw them. 'Okay, there are zombies. Let's go home now.'

The urge to get as far away as was humanly possible was strong, but Stiles managed to control himself. He even moved across the room to get a better look at them. They were obviously dead. There was nothing particularly gruesome about them, though. They weren't covered in blood or gaping wounds. Their flesh wasn't slouching off their bones. To be honest, there wasn't a whole lot that visibly differentiated them from the living. Yet, you couldn't look at them without immediately going, 'yeah, those are zombies.'

Cautiously inching closer to the glass that separated him from the undead, Stiles studied them. There was an air of neglect about them. They looked like they hadn't combed their hair for a couple of days or something. Ultimately, the knowledge of what they were and the subsequent fear was triggered by their eyes. More specifically, the lack of spark in them. It was the difference between person and corpse.

The others were also closely examining the zombies. Taking his eyes off of the shambling dead, Stiles registered the mood among his classmates. They weren't afraid or repulsed, like he was. Apart from Stiles, only Lydia seemed upset. She kept blinking as if she was failing to process the situation. Stiles knew the feeling. The rest, on the other hand, were joking, taking photos with their phones and tapping the glass to draw the zombies' attention. Like trying to get the sharks at Sea World to notice you, Stiles realised. If this doesn't go horribly wrong then I'm not a huge geek, he thought. Feeling sick to his stomach, he put a finger against the glass. Closing his eyes, he applied a little bit of pressure; all the while hoping and praying that the glass was suitably thick and sturdy and would hold.

'I'm sure it's safe,' Scott suddenly said, startling the shit out of Stiles.

'You are too trusting,' Stiles replied, turning away from the glass. We need to get out of here, he thought. But what could he do? They were on a field trip and almost everyone – barring Lydia and himself - seemed to be having a good time. Wait, that wasn't true. There was one other person who was not enjoying the entertainment on offer: Derek Hale. He was extremely tense.

Stiles watched him as he paced. It didn't do much for his anxiety levels, but he was happy to be able to focus on something else. Plus, Derek was pleasant to look at. Beautiful. Almost more a work of art than a person. A couple of times, Derek caught him looking and they locked eyes. It sent a tingle down Stiles' spine. The best thing about it was that Derek didn't seem to mind his staring. It wasn't exactly encouragement, but it wasn't discouragement either. To distract himself from the inevitable zombie escape that would result in all their deaths, Stiles decided to ask Derek out on a date.

To prepare, Stiles stopped by the bathroom. He checked his reflection and practised what he was going to say.

'Are you dating? I mean, are you dating anyone? Someone? Just in case it wasn't clear already, I'd like that person to be me. Ahem. I'd like for you to date me. I want to date you,' he rambled. God, he could just picture Derek's reaction. Maybe he'd listen politely at first, mildly interested in finding out why a complete stranger was talking to him, and then he'd most likely walk off in the middle of Stiles' pathetic spiel.

'You're gonna die alone,' Jackson remarked, giving Stiles his umpteenth mini heart attack of the day by appearing suddenly from a stall. Stiles tried to ignore him and his stupid smirk. Losing interest rapidly, Jackson washed his hands and left. Screw him, Stiles thought. Who cared if Derek said no? Okay, Stiles cared. But it wouldn't be the end of the world.

I mean, Stiles reasoned, Derek doesn't even live in Beacon Hills, so I'll probably never have to see the guy again. That meant zero future embarrassment. Therefore, it didn't matter if Derek turned out to be super straight. Or into men his own age or older. Or into cool people; something Stiles was definitely not. But, let's not forget, there was the slight possibility that Derek would say yes and that was totally worth it.

Thrumming with anticipation, Stiles came out of the bathroom and overheard a dumb comment made by Jackson.

'I wonder what they eat.'

It was way too perfect. Stiles couldn't pass up this golden opportunity to make Jackson look like the idiot he was. Before anyone else could say anything, Stiles sidled up to Jackson and answered.

'I hate to break it to you, Jackson, but Soylent Green is people.'

'Huh?'

'They eat people. They eat us,' Stiles smugly said, which was when the glass – a.k.a. the only thing between them and the zombies – broke.