Stan Of The Dead
As usual, apologies for the long wait between updates. I will try to get quicker in future!
I don't own South Park, or Shaun.
Chapter 10
Jason the zombie gazed out of the window at his former classmates, who were all standing around as though waiting for something. Some of the kids shuffled their feet nervously and looked at Stan.
"So, we're going to Willie's then?" Craig said eventually.
"Yes," Stan said, as Red opened her mouth. There was a short silence. "Um, which way is it?" he asked sheepishly.
The kids looked around them. They were on a quiet residential street. There was no-one else around. Well no-one alive, anyway. They could hear zombies moaning somewhere in the distance but apart from that it was eerily quiet.
"Wait, you don't even know where it is?" Red asked, exasperated. "Oh great plan, genius."
Stan flipped her off.
"Actually, I think we're pretty close," Cartman said. He narrowed his eyes, thinking. "I think this is Leyland Avenue. If I'm right – and I usually am – Willie's should be in the next block." He paused and looked round at the surprised faces. "What? I can be helpful."
"How sure are you?" Stan asked.
Cartman shrugged. "Pretty sure." Thanks to his double life as The Coon, he'd come to know the layout of the town well. Or at least, he thought he had. Things looked a little different in daylight. Still, the others didn't need to know that.
"Which way do we go?"
"I think we should cut through the gardens," Cartman said. "It'd be quicker and there's less chance of us running into trouble."
"Lead the way, dude."
Cartman marched off towards one of the houses, the others following reluctantly. Stan glanced over as Kyle pulled out his phone.
"Who are you calling?"
"My mom."
"Do we really need to get our parents involved?" Stan asked. "You know how stupid they are."
"We need to tell them what's going on," Kyle replied. "When we don't turn up, they'll start wondering where we are and then they will do something stupid." He paused and listened. "Hello, mom? Listen, we're not going to make it to...mom? Mom? Dammit. She got cut off. I bet her phone's out of juice. She never charges the damn thing up."
"Great," Stan said. "Now they really are going to worry."
They rounded the corner of the house into the back yard and watched several of their friends trying to climb over a tall wooden fence into the next garden. With a little bit of help they finally managed to get over, and Mr Stanislavski, who'd already gone over, lifted them down. Finally, it was Stan and Kyle's turn. With great difficulty, they hauled themselves up. Stan paused at the top. Right in front of them was a row of back yards, all with very similar high wooden fences.
"Great. This is gonna be easy," he muttered.
Six back gardens later, everybody was exhausted and full of splinters. They staggered towards the next fence, with Cartman still leading the way, albeit very slowly.
"How...much...further?" Clyde wheezed. His face was bright red from exertion.
Cartman shrugged. "What am I, a GPS?"
"We must be nearly there by now," Kyle said. "I'll take a look over this fence. Can someone help me?"
Craig and Token knelt down next to the fence and cupped their palms, allowing Kyle to put a foot in, and pushed him up until he could grab on to the top of the fence. He pulled himself up until he could see over it and hung there, in silence, for about a minute or so. He dropped down and, very slowly, turned to face the others.
"Well, the good news we made it. Willie's is just across the street," he said.
Stan suddenly noticed how pale his friend looked. "What's the bad news, Ky?" he asked quietly.
"Um, there's a few zombies in the way," Kyle said.
Stan shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How many's a few?"
"Twenty, thirty. Probably more."
A series of groans and gasps went up from the group.
"You see! I knew we shouldn't have listened to Captain fucking Calamity!" Red said, glaring at Stan.
"This is what happens when you follow them," Craig said sagely. "You only end up getting deeper in trouble."
Cartman fixed him with a stare. "What are you talking about Craig?"
"Peru," he replied quietly.
"Will you stop going on about fucking Peru!" Cartman shouted. "Jesus, you're like a stuck record!"
"Um, guys..." Butters said. He was watching a figure shuffle into the back garden.
"All I'm saying is that when you guys get caught up in something, you always end up in over your heads," Craig said calmly. "And that only makes things worse for everyone around you. Which is why everyone thinks you guys are assholes."
"At least I'm trying to do something Craig!" Stan said. "I'm not just standing there being a whiny little bitch!"
"He's only saying what we're all thinking, Stan," Red said with a smug smile.
"Um, everyone, I really think you need to see this," Butters said.
"Red, if everybody had listened to you, we'd all be dead," Stan shot back.
"Um, excuse me -" Butters began.
"WHAT!" Red and Stan shouted in unison.
"Um, zombie," Butters said quietly, pointing towards the shuffling figure.
The kids turned as one towards it. The zombie was a tall middle aged man with receding dark hair, dressed in a sweater and jeans. Stan instinctively felt around for his bat and then remembered he didn't have it any more.
"Uh, guys, we need to do...something!" he said.
"Stan!" Wendy called.
She was holding a child's swing-ball set, a long blue plastic pole with a bit of rope and a tennis ball attached to the end. She threw it to Stan, who caught it with ease. He looked at it and then at the advancing zombie and moved forwards, swinging the pole over his head. The rope swung out in a wide circle and the ball hit the zombie harmlessly on the side of the head. Stan let the pole drop and looked at Wendy, shaking his head. She rolled her eyes, pointed at the pole and made stabbing motions.
Stan's eyes widened. He picked the pole up again and dodged out of the way as the zombie lunged at him. It stumbled and turned towards him again. He pointed the pole at it, aimed the tip at its chest and ran at it like a jouster. The pole went through its decomposing body like a knife through butter. Stan pushed all his weight against it, forcing the zombie backwards until they reached a small tree. He thrust the bloodied pole between two branches until it was jammed tightly and wouldn't budge. The zombie thrashed around, but it was stuck tight. It couldn't dislodge the pole from between the branches and it couldn't pull it out, not without almost ripping itself in half. Stan stood back, breathing deeply.
"I say, well done!" said Mr Stanislavski.
Stan glared at the rest of the group.
"Thanks for your help, guys," he said sarcastically.
"You had it covered," Cartman said, with a dismissive wave.
"We didn't want to cramp your style," Token said.
Stan raised his eyebrows. "Sure you didn't."
"Nice one, hero," Red said. "That's one down, now we've only got the three hundred and ninety nine outside Willie's to get past."
Stan blushed. "That is gonna be a problem."
"Maybe we could stay here," Butters suggested.
"No. If he found us, then others will too," Kyle said.
"So what do we do?" Bebe asked.
Stan shook his head in frustration. Then his eyes fell on Mr Stanislavski. He thought for a moment and then he grinned.
"I think I have an idea," he said.
Mr Stanislavski was in his element. He watched the kids shuffling around, making strange zombie noises and reflected that they were the biggest bunch of no-hopers he had ever seen. Still, if anyone could whip them into shape, he could.
"That's very good!" he lied. "Now, the most important part about acting is to find the character's motivation." He walked over to the zombie. "Have a close look at our friend here. What is his motivation?"
"To eat people," Butters said.
"Well yes, there is that," Mr Stanislavski said. "But I'm talking about his character. What drives him emotionally? You can always tell a person's true feelings by looking into their eyes. They can lie to you with their mouth, but not their eyes. Look at his. There is a sadness, almost a sort of desperation in them. What is making him feel like that?"
"Listening to you?" Cartman suggested.
The zombie moaned, as if in agreement.
Mr Stanislavski looked pained. "Why don't we forget that for now and concentrate on the physical side. Lets see your zombie interpretations again." The kids began moaning and shuffling again. Stanislavski walked along the line, appraising them as he went. "That's a very good effort, Jimmy, but you need to shuffle your feet a bit more...very nice, Rebecca, but you need to try and sound a little more, um, dead..." he paused and moved along the line. "Eric Cartman, what the hell are you doing?"
Cartman stood at the end of the line with his arms folded.
"I'm not doing it," he said curtly. "This whole plan is retarded."
"You're retarded," Kyle said automatically.
"Have you got any better ideas?" Stan demanded.
Cartman thought for a moment and then pulled a face. "No," he muttered.
"So lets see it, fatass," Stan said.
Cartman huffed out a sigh, raised his arms and launched into his zombie impression. He went cross-eyed and let out a series of bored sounding grunts and moans. He dragged his feet along the ground in an exaggerated way. Stan was reminded of the time Cartman had entered the Special Olympics, pretending to be disabled, it was that bad. Any self respecting zombie who saw him would be ashamed. Mr Stanislavski looked appalled.
Cartman returned to normal and looked around expectantly. "Well?"
"Dude!" Kyle said.
"We're all going to die," Craig said.
"It'll have to do," Stan said. "We don't have any more time to work on it. Let's go."
They trooped out of the back garden, round to the front of the house. Behind them, the zombie watched them go and moaned in an almost satisfied way. Peace at last.
The street was absolutely heaving with zombies, as Kyle had said. If Stan had to take a guess, he would say there was definitely more than forty shuffling around outside Willie's. The group stood huddled under a tree, watching them with trepidation.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Wendy asked Stan.
"No," he admitted.
"Okay, is everybody ready?" Mr Stanislavski asked lightly, as if they were off on a school trip. "Take up your positions."
The kids started their zombie impressions, some more convincing than others. Stan glanced across at Cartman. He was pulling an even more bizarre face than before – he had rolled his eyes back into his head, and his tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth.
"Mr Stanislavski!" Kyle said. "Cartman's not taking it seriously!"
Stanislavski marched over to him. "Mr Cartman! May I remind you that you are supposed to be a zombie, not Miley Cyrus!"
"I'm zombie Miley," Cartman protested.
"You're a zombie dick," Kyle muttered.
Mr Stanislavski threw his hands up in despair. "Fine, whatever. Let's just get this over with, shall we? Forward shuffle!"
The teacher was very good, Stan thought, as he watched him shambling away into the crowd of zombies. With his vacant expression and perfectly pitched moans, he was almost indistinguishable from the real ones.
The kids followed, bunching tightly together as they entered the crowd. The zombies didn't seem to take any notice of them as they moved through. Stan was relieved to see Willie's up ahead. Only a few more yards, and they'd be safe. He glanced across at Wendy. She had a look of pure terror frozen on her face.
"Aaaare yoooou ooookay?" Stan moaned to her.
Her eyes flicked towards him, and she managed a small nod.
"Eeeexuuuse meee," Butters moaned to a large zombie man who was blocking the group's path.
The man shuffled away, leaving a small gap. Through it, they could see the front door of Willie's. Mr Stanislavski was waiting for them outside. They half shuffled, half jogged towards him.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Stan asked. "Let's get inside."
Stanislavski shook his head. "We can't. Its locked."
"No! It can't be!" Wendy cried. She grabbed the door handle and rattled it in desperation.
"Stop doing that you stupid bitch!" Cartman hissed. "Some of them are looking!"
"There must be another way in," Stan said in a low voice. "We've got to find it without attracting their attention."
He had only just finished speaking when a phone started ringing. He looked around accusingly and then realised the sound was coming from his own pocket. He grabbed it and tried to pull it out, but in his panic it kept getting caught up in the lining.
"Will you shut that thing up!" Red hissed, as a few zombies turned towards the sound.
Stan finally pulled it free and glanced at the screen. "It's my dad," he said. "I've gotta take this."
"Are you insane?" Bebe said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Just distract them!" Stan muttered.
The rest of the group began moaning again. Stan watched with relief as the few zombies whose attention they had attracted quickly lost interest and finally answered the phone. The panicked voice of Randy Marsh greeted him on the other end.
"Where are you, Stan?"
"There's been a change of plan. We're not going to get to the community centre. We're going to hole up at Whistlin' Willie's instead."
"No Stan, you have to get here now!"
"Dad, the whole town is crawling with zombies. Anyway, we're outside Willie's right now."
There was a pause. "Are those zombies I can hear?"
Stan glanced over at his friends. "Uh yeah, kind of. Listen Dad, I've really gotta - "
"Son, have you been bitten?"
"What? No!"
"If you have been, you find a gun and blow your brains out!" Randy said, his voice shaking with emotion. "You promise me! I will not have a zombie for a son!"
"Randy!" Stan heard his mother Sharon's anguished cry in the background.
"Dad, I haven't been bitten. None of us have! Look, I've really got to go!" He listened as Kyle whispered something in his ear. "Yeah, I'll ask. Dad, is everyone okay over there?"
"Yeah, everybody's all right. We've got a good blockade up. Nothing's getting in or out."
"Good." Stan gave Kyle a thumbs up.
"The Army are on their way, okay," Randy said. "You guys hang on in there."
A lump formed in Stan's throat. "Thanks. You too." He swallowed hard. "Bye Dad."
"Goodbye son."
Stan cut the call and put his phone back into his pocket. "They're all okay."
"That's great, but that doesn't help us with our problem," Red said. "How are we going to get into Willie's?"
"I don't know!" Stan snapped, his voice rising. "Why do you keep asking me all the time?"
"Because this was your stupid fucking idea!"
"I'm doing my best here!" Stan shouted. "I don't see you coming up with any solutions!"
"You are such a jerk!" Red shouted back. "I hate you!"
"Guys, quit it!" Kyle hissed.
But it was too late. Zombies were shuffling towards them, attracted by the raised voices. Some of the kids screamed. Butters and Wendy hammered on the door, yelling for help. Mr Stanislavski darted across the pavement, shoving a few zombies out of the way as he went. With a strength that surprised Stan, he picked up a trash can and hurled it through one of the windows, which shattered instantly. He reached through the empty frame and opened the window.
"Come on, quickly!" he called to the kids.
They tried to move, but there were too many zombies. Dozens of hands grabbed at them as the whole crowd of the undead surged towards them, threatening to block their path. Stan took a deep breath. Mr Stanislavski had already climbed through the window. The kids at the front of the group might make it, but the ones at the back wouldn't stand a chance. They needed to distract the zombies. Someone would have to act as a decoy.
Gee, I wonder who that's gonna be, he thought sourly.
Before he had even thought about what he was doing, he ran, dodging past the grabbing hands and scrambled up on to a nearby car. He stood on the roof, looking down on the zombies swarming around it.
"Hey you dead assholes!" he shouted. "Look! Fresh meat standing right here!" He jumped up and down. "Hey! Come get me! You know you want a piece of me!"
The distraction worked. The zombies turned away from the kids and poured towards him. He froze.
"Oh fuck," he muttered.
The car rocked back and forth as the zombies pushed against it. Stan staggered for a moment, trying to keep his balance and then decided it was time to get off. He slid down the windscreen, jumped off the bonnet of the car and ran a little way up the street.
"Come on douchebags, I'm right here!" he shouted.
One by one, the zombies shuffled after him. Stan ran up the street and disappeared round the corner, still shouting.
"What's he doing?" Wendy cried. Her face was streaked with tears.
Kyle watched the others, who were climbing through the open window. "Saving our lives," he said. His own eyes burned with tears, but he blinked them away. No way was he crying in front of a girl. "Come on, lets get inside."
Well that's it for chapter 10. Let me know if you're enjoying it so far!
Chapter 11 up soon...