"It really is quite remarkable. The greatest music in the known universe are the majestic symphonies created on Althova 5! They are the only music forms which meets all 217 aesthetic criteria from the seventeen completely different music academies throughout the cosmos. Even Daleks have been to known to like them, so they have their casing reprogrammed to make sure they can't hear them."
The man who was speaking this appeared to be a voluble Scotsman in his late middle ages. He was not Scots or indeed human at all, and was, of course, the twelfth Doctor. Or as his companion, the young pretty Clara Oswald thought, the Baker's Dozen Doctor, since there were actually thirteen men who had called themselves that. At that moment they were traveling in the Doctor's TARDIS, and Clara was listening to the Doctor with gentle skepticism. "I thought you were into electric guitar. So basically you and the Daleks are into heavy metal?"
"Of course not Clara, the symphonies last a minimum of three days. And because your hearing range is limited, you can't fully appreciate them. But the Althovans have a solution to that. They've produced a food supplement that allows you to hear it. And it tastes like sherbet ice cream. Or maybe rotten sauerkraut. My taste buds have changed several times but..."
And just then the TARDIS faced a violent shuddering that brought both Clara and the Doctor to the floor. High pitched whines shook the air, while it almost seemed that the TARDIS had ground to a halt. Then the TARDIS started to shake, almost to rattle. There were small explosions, and the air filled with smoke. Against the considerable forces around him, the Doctor managed to get up and drag Clara to the console.
"Seriously Doctor what the hell?"
"I don't know! I think the TARDIS is under attack from something. I'm trying to read these dials. Now this is strange. We're under attack from...a computer program? A very old computer program? Some sort of default?" But just then, the whining seemed to turn into an enormous roar. To the horror of each other Clara and the Doctor appeared to vanish...
The Doctor awoke and picked himself up. "Clara?" There was no sign of her.
Looking around he found himself in a town. Nobody was there and it appeared abandoned. He quickly looked around to gather information. Several American flags suggested he was in the United States. The temperature and local flora and fauna suggested he was somewhere in the American South. A quick perusal suggested that he was in Clara's future, but not too far in the future. As he walked into a larger street, the sense of desolation was much more pronounced. There were abandoned cars, debris and rubbish everywhere. Clearly something disastrous had happened, but what? He looked inside an abandoned convenience store. It had been looted of all of its food and medicine, but there will still some magazines. The Doctor picked one up. "So it is, or was 2040. And we're somewhere in North Carolina."
He continued to walk on, past abandoned buildings with "Bowles for Senate!" signs plastered for them. Suddenly he stopped, as he noted a strange sound. It was like a voice, but low and unclear. "Hello?" the Doctor called out. The voice responded by raising in volume. As he listened more closely, the Doctor realized it was not a voice, but several. And the closer he heard it, the more he realized that it was inarticulate, yet somehow malevolent. The circumstances suggested caution, so the Doctor picked up speed and raced around the next corner so he could take a closer look.
He was right in at least one respect. The sound did come from several people. There was a crowd of perhaps ten to fifteen people. When they noticed the Doctor they started to move towards him. They were all dressed in old, tattered clothing. There was an unpleasant smell, or rather stench from them. The hair was all ratty and tangled. Their skin, whether black or white, was yellowing and sallow. Their eyes was empty, and their bodies were weak and emaciated. The only real sign of life about them were the splashes of fresh blood around some of their mouths. Instead, they all looked like corpses, who somehow were able to walk. But they were able to move quickly when it came to cutting the Doctor off from escape.
The Doctor quickly assessed the situation: "Zombies? This is silly!"
Silly or not, the undead approaching the Doctor were clearly threatening him. To make things worse, even more of them were coming into the street, appearing from derelict houses, from apparently unseen avenues and byways, and from strategically blocked nooks and crannies. Even more oddly, the Doctor quickly noted, for people whose legs were emaciated or in more than one case partially chewed off, they were capable of moving surprisingly quickly. To further darken the situation, notwithstanding their rotting flesh and hideous stench, their teeth was in surprisingly good shape. Also oddly and alarmingly, notwithstanding their emaciated and decomposing state, they were alarming strong, as the Doctor realized when several of them grabbed his limbs and prevented him from moving. One tall and rather intimidating one moved closer to the Doctor's head, intending to bite him.
"Duck you idiot!" a voice called out.
To the Doctor's surprise, the tall zombie's head exploded as he fell to the ground. The Doctor quickly realized he had been taken out by a head shot. The zombie's fall had confused and inconvenienced the others, especially when another zombie holding the Doctor was hit by a head shot. The Doctor wrestled himself free, and managed to speed by several other zombies. He quickly met the group who had rescued him. They were three people, one African-American woman, two white men, all in their twenties, carrying guns and knives. "Let's get out of here." said one of the men, who was holding the only rifle who started shooting and stabbing zombies in the head with efficient dispatch.
"Who the hell are you?" asked the woman.
"I'm the Doctor. And you are?"
"I'm Joanna!" She pointed to the man with the rifle rapidly slaughtering zombies. "The man who saved you is Daryl."
'And she's the one who insisted we save your sorry ass!" Daryl replied back.
"I'm Pete, for what it's worth." said the second man, who was trying to aim and shoot, with considerable more nervousness.
"Why do you insist on shooting or stabbing them in the head?" the Doctor asked.
"Are you joking?" Joanna replied. "Everyone knows nothing happens if you shoot them anywhere else. But just two zombies appeared as if out of nowhere and grabbed Daryl. Before he could respond one bit him in the arm, and the other took a deep bite out of his neck.
"Daryl!" Pete and Joanna both yelled.
"Kill me!" Daryl yelled back.
"Now wait a minute! Trust me, I've faced things much worse than this..." the Doctor objected. But Joanna took her gun and immediately shot Daryl in the head. This decisive action did not noticeably improve the situation, as the three of them found themselves surrounded on all sides by carnivorous zombies. "I'm out of bullets!" Pete said.
"So am I," Joanna grimly agreed. "I hope you're really good with knives." she said to the Doctor.
"Not especially," the Doctor replied. He took out his sonic screwdriver. "There is something very wrong here..."
"Yes, we're surrounded by zombies who are going to kill and eat us!" Pete responded.
"Hold on a minute. My sonic screwdriver can check this out."
"How is a sonic anything going to help us?" Joanna bitterly riposted. But the Doctor turned it on, trying to see what was wrong. Just then, there was an extremely loud, irritating and high pitched noise from the screwdriver. The zombies froze in their tracks-and then immediately bolted and ran away. As for the screwdriver, it suddenly burst into flames. The Doctor dropped it, as it fell into several pieces.
The other two were stunned as they looked around the otherwise empty streets. Joanna quickly reacted and picked up Daryl's rifle. "We are definitely bringing him along. And whatever that thing is."
Pete picked up the disassembled screwdriver and started to drag the Doctor. "Don't you want to take along your friend?" The Doctor queried, pointed to Daryl's body.
"Ummm, we usually don't. We don't want to risk them turning." Pete replied.
"Turning?"
"Yeah, when someone dies, they turn into a zombie."
"Do they?"
"Yeah everyone knows that. That's why you shoot them in the head, that's the only way to stop them."
"But Joanna did shoot him in the head. So he's not likely to turn is he?"
Pete was speechless as he tried to grasp this. "Well surely you're not going to object if he's properly buried," and the Doctor went over and picked up Daryl's body.
"We've got to get back to the van." Joanna exclaimed. "As long as your doo hickey is broken, and we're out of bullets, we're vulnerable."
"Wait!" the Doctor objected, "I have a friend out here somewhere. Her name is Clara. Has anyone seen her?"
"Well if she's still alive, her best chance is that's she back at the base."