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Zombie in Z Minor Part 4

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart looked at Marty and the Doctor with an expression somewhere in between exhaustion and concern. He either hadn't slept the night before or had slept very little. His fine, fair hair fell in a mess about his face. If Marty didn't know better he would say he had been on a five-night bender to get into that kind of condition.

The time travellers found themselves speechless for a second. This was Mozart? The Mozart? Finally the Doctor smiled.

"It is truly a pleasure to meet you," the Doctor held out his hand, but Wolfgang just regarded it uneasily for a moment.

"What do you want?" He muttered, his eyes flickering back and forth between them. He was clearly uncomfortable and the Doctor had an inkling that he was even trying to hide something.

"Master Mozart," the landlady said in disbelief at his rudeness. "These men are here on official business," she leaned in, practically hissing at him, "from the Emperor."

"What? What would he want?"

"We're looking for Ludolf Hochstrasser."

"He's… he's not feeling well. Neither am I, really I-"

The Doctor pushed the door open and Wolfgang didn't have the strength to keep it closed. With a quick thank you to the landlady before she could protest they entered the room and closed the door behind them, leaving the three men alone.

Wolfgang backed up, holding his hands behind his back, looking incredibly fragile and frightened in that moment. Marty quickly looked around the small room, decorated with the same faded rose furniture as downstairs, but here there were sheets of music scattered on nearly every surface and the curtains were drawn tightly, only letting a few slivers of light get in.

"I said he's sick," Wolfgang said defensively, staring at the door.

"Do you know why we're here?" The Doctor asked seriously.

Wolfgang looked away, shaking his head a little. "Maybe… I'm not certain. I'm still…"

"We found this notebook, apparently it belongs to your friend," the Doctor held the notebook and Wolfgang instinctively went to reach for it, then almost immediately changed his mind and hid his hands behind his back – but not before Marty saw a brief flash of red.

"Where did you find it?" He asked meekly.

"… Under the body of a man. He was," there was no easy way for the Doctor to put it, "murdered."

"Violently murdered," Marty added for emphasis, not liking what he may or may not have seen on Wolfgang's hands.

If possible Wolfgang's face became even paler than it had been when they walked in and he sank into a chair behind him, folding his arms so his hands remained hidden from view.

"Mr. Mozart-"

"I'm not married," Wolfgang looked up at the Doctor in a daze.

"Well, not yet anyway."

"What?"

The Doctor held the notebook out again. "Take it."

Slowly, his hands trembling slightly, Wolfgang reached out and took the notebook from him. He could no longer hide that his hands covered in dry blood. The three men looked at each other in silence.

"I tried to wash them," Wolfgang stuttered, "but I couldn't get them clean."

"You knew the man who was murdered, didn't you?"

"I swear I didn't hurt him. This isn't even his blood."

"I'm not saying you did. I just want to know what you saw."

Wolfgang looked away. "I thought maybe it was a nightmare… maybe I had just imagined the entire thing."

"Just start from the beginning," the Doctor sat down across from him, but Marty stayed standing, staring at a half open door to an adjoining room where he could just make out a bed…

"We were out last night, drinking."

"Who's we?"

"Me, Ludolf and… Jens. He was the one who…" he looked at the Doctor dead in the eye. "I had a lot to drink, but I know what I saw. As we walked home a man stumbled towards us. We thought he was just intoxicated, until he…" Wolfgang shuddered. "He bit into Jens' throat. Ludolf tried to stop him, but it was too late… so we ran…"

"The man… bit him?" Marty asked.

"He was mad."

"He might have been more than that," Marty muttered.

"What about Ludolf?"

"We were in such a panic, we couldn't think straight. We ran straight back here, and Ludolf said he didn't feel well. He got hurt. It's his blood, I had to dress the wounds. I put him to bed and I was going to go to the police, but I was too frightened to leave and I must have fallen asleep-"

"All right, all right, calm down" the Doctor cut Wolfgang's rant short.

"Look, Doc," Marty stepped forward, "I didn't want to say this before and I hardly want to say it now, but c'mon. You've gotta know what this sounds like!"

"It sounds like we have to find the man who killed Jens."

"You're damn right we have to find him, but let's stop kidding ourselves. He isn't a man anymore!"

"What are you talking about?" Wolfgang asked uneasily, remembering the cold, blank stare in the man's eyes right before he attacked Jens.

"When your friend fought him, you said he got hurt. That's his blood?"

"Well, yes."

"Did he get bitten?"

Wolfgang became quiet. "Bitten?"

The Doctor tried to look at him reassuringly. "If your friend's sick, we might be able to help him."

"Yes, he bit them both," Wolfgang finally said. "Was he sick? Do you mean he might have been infectious?"

"You're damn right he was infectious."

"Marty," the Doctor warned.

"Aw, c'mon, just say it. They were attacked by a zombie!"

The Doctor sat up, looking down at Marty. "Don't be ridiculous. There's no such thing as zombies."

"That guy in prison said Jens' head was still trying to bite him, that's why he took a rock to him, that's why he was killed twice! Once someone's bitten there's nothing left to do but destroy the brain!"

Wolfgang was on his feet now, and although he was smaller than the other two men there was no denying the intensity in his eyes and it shut the both of them up instantly.

"What are you going on about? What in God's name is a zombie?"

"A myth."

"A disease," Marty said, "one that can't be stopped. You have to kill a zombie before it kills you!"

"Did you hit your head when you fell into that mine? You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I know that once you get bit that's it! For Christ's sake Doc, any minute now Ludolf in there is going to turn into one and-"

"Get out," Wolfgang whispered, but his voice shot through them like a bullet. The entire room suddenly felt colder.

"Look, just to be safe, we probably should take a look at your friend," then Doctor tried to recover the situation.

"And I said get out."

"Hey Amadeus," Marty nearly shouted back, "we're trying to help here."

"How did you…?" Wolfgang shook his head. It didn't matter who these people were or how they knew that name. "I don't know what you're going on about and I don't care how they do things in Vienna but I won't sit around here while you're going on about nonsense! Now get out before I throw you out!"

"We really are just trying to help-" The Doctor tried, but Mozart didn't give him a chance to finish.

"I don't need any help from you. I've told you all I know – all Ludolf knows as well – now leave me alone. For God's sake, I haven't even been able to wash my friend's blood off my hands. I need time."

"You haven't got time," Marty interjected, but the Doctor was already opening the door.

"Come on Marty."

"I know I'm right," Marty said in annoyance, but walked through the open door.

The Doctor looked back one last time. "If your friend does need out help, we won't be far."

Wolfgang moved forward and this time he was able to push the door closed and the Doctor out. He stood there motionless, leaning against the door, his head buzzing not just from his hangover, but from the images of last night and that strange word…

Zombie.

He stared at the door leading to Ludolf room, with no one speaking now he could hear Ludolf's ragged breathing. Was he going to die? They offered help practically in the same breath they had said something about destroying his brain. What could he do? How was he supposed to help his friend?

Feeling slightly nervous he moved into the next room and stared at Ludolf. He had been tossing and turning the entire night, his sheets were wet with sweat and the bandage Wolfgang had tied to his arm was completely soaked through with blood.

"Ludolf," Wolfgang whispered, nearly choking on the stale air. We walked over to the window, pulling open the curtains and cracking the window to let in some air.

The sound of breathing stopped.

He turned around. Ludolf hadn't moved, he was as still as death-

Wolfgang's knees nearly gave out. He knew Ludolf was dead even before he ran to his side and began shaking him. His eyes were open, empty, staring up at the ceiling. His skin was clammy and cold. He checked for a pulse. Noting Ludolf might have been dead for hours from the look of him, but he had been so sure he had heard him breathing…

He reached towards his friend's eyes to shut them, knowing he had to accept this, knowing he had to go down to his landlady and tell her that her tenant had died, that-

Ludolf's blank eyes twitched and locked on Wolfgang. The young musician only had a moment to scream as his friend lunged at him from the afterlife.

To Be Continued…

(Apparently the 6th Doctor has met Mozart – in an audio drama anyway. "My Own Private Wolfgang" is apparently about Mozart becoming immortal or something. I don't really know and I don't really care. I only consider the TV series as canon, so as far as I'm concerned the Doctor has never met Mozart before this moment. Hopefully they never meet him in the new series, that would bullocks things up a bit. Someone asked me if these were "Left 4 Dead" zombies. I have no idea what constitutes a "Left 4 Dead" zombie, but my story has nothing to do with that game. It was tricky trying to figure out how to make zombies in the Whovers, but hopefully it'll all make sense to you over the next few chapters.)