Zombies! Werewolves! Virgins! Birds!

Chapter 2: Coppertone

Stiles' mood: not happy to be surrounded by zombies who crave his delicious, delicious brains. Also, aroused.

'Come with me if you want to live,' Derek shouted. Stiles swooned. Then he looked around and his libido winked out of existence. The zombies were climbing into the room through the broken glass. They seemed not to mind that they were slicing themselves up in the process. Everyone was screaming. The air smelled metallic. It all happened so quickly. Stiles felt like he was watching a movie with missing frames.

Derek, closely followed by Stiles, moved to the other end of the room, where the exit was located. The trouble was that an employee had let them in with a key card and that employee was currently being mauled by a zombie. Derek battered the door with his shoulder, but it wouldn't budge. Stiles was surprised that Derek was even trying. The door was made of solid steel.

'We need a key card,' Stiles said, raising his voice to be heard above the melee. He swivelled around and, trembling, placed his back against the door. Derek was already scanning the room for someone else in a white coat, but all personnel seemed to have vanished. Someone must have dropped one of those things, Stiles thought, fighting back the panic that was threatening to close off his throat. His eyes swept across the floor. They skittered over bodies and blood. Then…

'There!' Stiles yelled, pointing. Underneath a chewed up corpse, a laminated corner of a get-out-of-hell-free card lay glinting under the fluorescent light. Stiles surged forward to retrieve it, but was immediately pulled back.

'Stay here,' Derek ordered and disappeared. So, everything was going to be alright. Derek would get the key card and they would get out of here. Everything was going to be fine. Except, Stiles realised that he couldn't leave. Not without Scott. Breathing hard, he surveyed the room again. Dead people, dead people, zombies, more dead people. He forced himself to look at the faces of all of them, until, finally, he located Scott. Still alive.

'Scott! Over here!'

Wide eyed, Scott looked in his direction. Stiles waved like a possessed man. Scott - who was holding hands with Allison, Stiles now noticed - managed to reach him without much trouble. In a horrible way, it helped that some of the zombies had sat down to eat. Faces smeared with blood. Gnawing. Looking satisfied. The zombies weren't fast and there weren't that many of them, but they were efficient.

'I had a 'not without my daughter' moment for a second there, but you're here now, so we can go,' Stiles joked, but it came out all wrong probably because he wasn't joking and oh God, please, make it stop.

'Stiles? Go where?' Scott gently but insistently inquired. Stiles tried to explain, but words tumbled over one another and his voice was shaking. That was when Derek appeared with the key card. He didn't waste any time in slamming the card against the sensor. The sensor beeped and the door remained locked. Allison bit her lip. Derek ran the card over the sensor a couple of times, but nothing happened.

'Maybe a mechanism has been activated that seals the building to keep the zombies from escaping the facility,' Stiles speculated, thinking of Resident Evil. It wasn't a helpful theory. He knew that. In the distance, someone was sobbing.

'So, what, try another door?' Scott suggested, sounding near breaking point. Derek nodded. Quietly, staying close to the wall, they moved. Luckily, there were a few other doors. Lord knows where they led, but at least it would be away from here. Away, away, away. The key card did work on the next door they tried. They filed into the room. Every one of them, except Allison. She froze. Stiles thought it was fear that made her stop, but it wasn't only fear.

'It's Lydia,' she said softly. Stiles heard the words, but they made no impact. Allison might as well have said, 'It's Tuesday.' Stiles simply wasn't capable of taking anything in anymore. He felt drugged; separated from the outside world in a way that was simultaneously scary and pleasant. I think I'm in shock, he thought calmly.

'We should help her,' Scott said. Sure, Stiles thought, but he didn't move. Whatever was happening; it had nothing to do with him. None of it – the bright red tendrils creeping along the floor, the disgusting odour of meat having been left out for too long – had anything to do with him. Scott punched him in the arm. Startled, Stiles attempted to clear his head because Scott looked worried. Stiles suspected that Scott might have been talking to him for a while without getting a reaction.

Someone cried out. Slowly, Stiles turned his gaze towards the sound. Allison was right: it was Lydia. Jackson was shielding her from three zombies. His face was contorted with horror and he was obviously fighting a losing battle. Stiles was not feeling it. He wasn't feeling a lot of things. Oh, man, he realised; this is going to hit me so hard later.

'They're friends of yours?' Derek asked. Allison answered in the affirmative.

'I'll get them,' Derek decided and then he went and did just that.

You know I love you, right? Stiles thought, but – thank God – didn't say. It wasn't long before Derek was back with Jackson and Lydia in tow. Roughly, Derek shoved everyone into the other room and began to bar the door behind them.

'What are you doing?' Jackson requested. There was more than a touch of hysteria in his voice. He didn't look so good either. Sweat was pouring off him. His right sleeve was torn.

'What does it look like?' Derek replied, sliding a heavy-looking cabinet in front of the door.

'But—you can't do that! What about the others?' Jackson protested.

What others? Stiles thought. How long had it been since the glass broke? Three minutes? Five? Ten? Was someone else still out there? Stiles couldn't find it in himself to care.

'They're on their own,' Derek said.