Stan Of The Dead

So we're getting towards the end now. For those of you waiting for the zombie killing to start, it's about to begin!

I don't own South Park or Shaun.

Chapter 12

Stan was standing outside Willie's, in the car park at the back of the diner. He looked out towards the mountains in the distance and listened. He could hear the moans already, even though he couldn't see them. His hand tightened around the baseball bat.

And then they appeared, hundreds of them pouring over the hills like something out of Lord Of The Rings. More and more of them came from all sides, converging on Willie's. Stan backed away slowly and dropped the baseball bat. He turned and ran back to Willie's and tried to open the kitchen door. It was locked. He peered in one of the windows. All his friends were inside, laughing, joking, eating pizza – seemingly oblivious to the approaching danger. Stan hammered his fists on the window.

"Let me in! Please, let me in!"

He looked around for his friends. He could see Cartman stuffing his face with pizza and Kyle laughing at one of Kenny's filthy jokes.

"Kyle, let me in! You've gotta unlock the door, please! Kenny? Cartman?"

But even though they were right next to the window, his friends couldn't seem to hear him. Stan watched, astonished, as Wendy walked past hand in hand with Token.

"Wendy, it's me, Stan! Wendy! WENDY!"

But just like his friends, Wendy ignored him. Stan backed away from the window, fighting back tears. He was alone. He had no choice now but to run. He darted round to the front of the diner, but quickly pulled up. Zombies were coming down the street from both ends, cutting off his escape. He ran back into the car park, but that was no good either. Zombies swarmed into it, filling the large space, blocking his view of the mountains. There was no escape.

Stan whimpered as the circle closed in on him. His heart sank as he saw his family – his mum, dad and big sister Shelley – at the front of the pack, moaning and reaching out for him. Next to them was Mr Stanislavski. Blood oozed from the hole in his forehead.

"Please..." Stan said softly.

He cringed as the dead hands started to grab him.

Just then, he felt a tremor in the ground and the tarmac cracked around his feet. He watched in confusion as it crumbled away and two pairs of rotting hands emerged.

Willie's victims...

Stan screamed as they grabbed his ankles.

"Stan!" The voice was distant. Stan vaguely recognised it, but he couldn't put a name to it.

The hands pulled him to the ground. He scrabbled desperately at the tarmac as he was dragged towards the hole.

"Stan!" The voice was louder, more insistent.

Stan screamed again as he was dragged into the hole and then he was falling down into darkness...

"STAN!"

Stan jolted awake and looked around, blinking in confusion. Wendy looked down at him, concerned. He tried to speak, but no sound came out.

"It's okay. It was just a bad dream," she said gently.

He was safe. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Stan repeated it over and over in his head until the terror had subsided. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. His cheeks were wet. Oh god, he'd been crying. What a total loser. He wiped them with his sleeve and stared at the table, embarrassed.

"Nobody was looking, I promise," Wendy said, as though she'd read his mind.

"I can't see anyone else having nightmares," Stan muttered.

"That's because no-one's been brave enough to go to sleep," Wendy said with a smile. The concerned look returned. "It was really bad, wasn't it?" she said quietly.

He nodded.

"Can I get you anything?" Wendy asked.

Yeah. I want my bottle of whisky, Stan thought. How he regretted throwing it in the trash now. "No thanks," he said aloud.

"You're doing great, you know," she said.

"It doesn't feel like it," he said with a wan smile.

Wendy gave his shoulder a squeeze and then noticed Red and Bebe glaring at her. "I better go," she said, a little reluctantly. "I just wanted to check you were okay."

Before she could leave, Butters joined them. He was clutching a piece of paper rather nervously. "I did that inventory you asked for," he said.

"What inventory?" Stan asked.

"I asked him to check how much food we've got, since we don't know how long we're going to be here," Wendy said.

"And?"

Butters consulted his paper. ""If we keep our portions small, I figured we should have enough to last us about three weeks. There's tons of pizza bases and toppings and ice cream."

"So if the zombies don't get us, cholesterol will," Stan said.

"Yeah," Butters sounded uneasy. "But then I remembered that Eric Cartman is here, so I had to re-calculate. I'd say it's more like a week now."

"So we keep an eye on fatass," Wendy said. "Anyway, we shouldn't even be here that long." She glanced down at Stan. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," he said. "You better get back to the others. We don't want them thinking you're being nice to me, do we?"

Wendy gave him a sad smile and went back to her friends. Butters went over to show Kyle his inventory, leaving Stan on his own. He didn't want either of them to go. Visions of the nightmare were still horribly fresh in his mind, appearing in front of him whenever he blinked. He rubbed his eyes, as though trying to rub the images away.

Sensing someone next to him, he looked up, hoping it was Wendy. Unfortunately, it wasn't.

"Stan?"

"What is it, Clyde?"

"When are they coming?"

Stan stared at him. "Who?"

"The Army," Clyde said, trying to keep his voice level. "When you spoke to your dad, did he say when they'd get here?"

"No. He just said he'd called them." That answer didn't help. Clyde looked like he was struggling to hold it together. "I'm sure they'll be here soon," Stan said soothingly.

"How soon is soon?" Clyde asked shakily.

"I-I don't know - "

"We've been here for over six hours! I can't do this, Stan. I've got to get out of here! Now!" Clyde screwed his face up. "I want my Mom!"

He began to wail loudly. Stan tried to quiet him, glancing anxiously towards the broken window. When that didn't work he leaned in a little closer and hissed: "Clyde, if you don't stop this I'm gonna hit you again! Shut the fuck up!"

Clyde stopped wailing and instead sniffled quietly, wiping his dripping nose with his sleeve.

"Thank you," Stan said, relieved. "Just try and stay calm. We're gonna get out of this, I promise."

Clyde nodded and shuffled back over to the booth he'd been sharing with Craig and Token. Craig leaned on the table-top, his chin resting on his crossed arms. His eyes were shut, but Stan doubted that he was asleep. Token, meanwhile, stared vacantly into space. Everyone else was pretty much the same. They sat in groups, mostly in silence. Some looked exhausted and tearful. Others looked tense, their mouths set in tight lines. Only Cartman seemed to be relaxed. He was playing one of Willie's arcade games. Kenny and a few others watched him.

There was a strange atmosphere in the diner. It felt almost like the calm before the storm and it was making Stan nervous. The last thing they needed was for people to start fighting amongst themselves. He decided to call his dad to see if the Army was on its way.

Suddenly there was a shout from across the diner that almost made him drop his phone.

"Yes! Fucking yes!" Cartman shouted. "I told you I'd win this game! In your face, Kenny!"

Kenny looked bemused. "I didn't say anything."

The arcade game that Cartman had apparently just won had started playing a jaunty electronic tune that set Stan's teeth on edge. It went on. And on. And on. And it was getting louder. Even Cartman, who'd been doing a little victory dance to it, stopped and stared at the machine.

"Cartman, turn that thing off!" Stan said urgently.

Cartman stabbed at a few buttons. "I can't. I think its stuck!"

"Unplug it!" Wendy said.

The machine was pushed tight against the wall. A few of the kids tried move it, without success.

"It's too heavy!" Kenny said.

"What do we do?" Butters asked, plugging his ears with his fingers.

Stan glanced at the windows. The zombies were pushing against them, attracted by the noise. The barricade of chairs and tables in front of the broken one was beginning to wobble. He whirled as a thought struck him.

"Guys, we need to find the fuse-box, trip the power! Everybody spread out and start looking!"

The diner was a hive of activity as the kids raced about, looking behind the counter, in the kitchen, Willie's office and anywhere else they could think of. A small group containing Butters, Cartman, Kenny and Clyde went a few feet and then after a short whispered discussion, turned back to Stan.

"Er, what's a fuse box?" Butters asked, wringing his hands nervously.

Stan shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's a box with fuses in," he said with forced patience. "Y'know, a fuse box."

"It should be on a wall somewhere," Wendy said.

The kids spread out, looking behind the counter, in the kitchen and in Willie's office. A few of them were about to head upstairs to Willie's living quarters when there was a shout from behind them.

"I think I've found it!" Butters cried.

He was in the corridor, a few yards from the kitchen, looking at a small grey box on the wall just above his head. He turned a small key which was already in the lock and the box swung open.

"What do I do?" he called.

"Flip the big switch!" Wendy shouted back.

Butters looked up at the box. He counted twelve small switches, all pointing either up or down, but no big one.

"There isn't one! There's just lots of little ones!"

Stan watched the barricade nervously. It had tilted a little to one side, like a large game of Jenga. If one bit fell out, the rest would quickly collapse.

"Press anything!" he shouted.

Butters closed his eyes and pressed one of the switches down. The music didn't stop, but the lights came on, making the kids blink.

"What happened?" he called.

"You switched the lights on, asshole! Turn them off!"

"Er..." Butters looked at the switches and picked one at random, flicking it up this time. "Well?"

"You switched the sign on!" Wendy said.

Stan peered out of the window at the zombies, who were bathed in a neon glow from the sign. They pushed up against the windows, their hands squeaking down the pane. More joined the crowd around the diner, attracted by the noise and the lights. The neon glow vanished as Butters flipped the switch again, plunging the street into semi-darkness.

"That's great, Butters!" Stan called. "Now try and find the switch for the video game!" He started as a zombie's hand reached in and knocked a chair in the barricade. "Hurry!"

Butters looked back at the panel, trying to remember which switches he'd pressed already. He was just about to try another when a figure loomed over him. It was a huge man, with a shaven head and a muscular body that screamed 'ex-football player'.

"Hi Willie!" Butters said cheerily. "Say, you don't know which switch turns that music off, do you?" Willie stared at him, his expression vacant. "W-Willie?"

The man began to moan. Butters screamed as a pair of hands, with fingers the size of sausages, stretched out towards him.

"Hey asshole!" Cartman shouted from behind them. Willie turned towards him, growling. Cartman gulped. "Bet you'd like some sweet meat, huh?" he said, slapping his arse in a show of bravado. "Well come get me!"

The zombie lost interest in Butters and waddled towards Cartman. Cartman backed away into the main part of the diner, shouting for help.

"I take it back!" he babbled, as Willie closed in on him. "You don't want me! I taste horrible!"

He ran over to a bunch of kids cowering in a corner and tried to push himself in amongst them, but they grabbed him and pushed him back towards the zombie.

"Help!" Cartman shouted.

Stan tried to think but the music was too loud, too annoying. It had burrowed its way into his brain like a tapeworm and refused to leave.

"Butters!" he shouted.

Butters dragged himself to his feet and looked at the fuse box. He raised a shaking hand and flicked two switches together.

The music finally stopped, to the relief of everyone's ears. But something else happened, too. Over on the left side, close to the door, was a pool table and a juke-box. As soon as the video game music had stopped, the jukebox whirred into life and the opening bars of Queen's Don't Stop Me Now filled the diner. Stan had a sudden memory of his dad, Randy, fresh from being released on bail after a fight at a Little League match, dancing on a table to that song, while Stan and his mom, Sharon had looked on, mortified. He smiled to himself. What he wouldn't give to see that now.

"Stan!" Stan reluctantly pushed the memory away and glanced over at Wendy. She was next to the pool table, holding a couple of pool cues. She nodded at Willie, who, luckily for Cartman had become distracted by the music, allowing him to get away.

"Shall we?" she asked.

Stan grinned. "We shall," he said. She threw him one of the cues which he caught deftly in one hand. "Let's go kill ourselves a zombie."

Chapter 13 up soon...