Fun fact: I'm uploading this from a café while my little cousin is trying to convince me to take her on a rollercoaster. Unfortunately for her, I am deathly afraid of this particular rollercoaster. Unfortunately for me, my cousin has perfected the art of puppy eyes. So now we're at a stalemate and neither of us are willing to back down. If I never update again please know it'll be because my favourite lil gremlin won her argument and I inevitably died on the rollercoaster.

But on the plus side - longer chapter! Whoo! Lots of action, lots of zombies, lots of inspiration from WWZ... although I'm pretty sure this is the last time that happens because it's back to an original plot after this chapter...


In reality it had only been about seventy-two hours since Scott had last flown Thunderbird One, but it felt more like years. Parker strapped into the seat behind without complaint and waited in silence for take-off, already a better passenger than Brains had ever been. Scott ran pre-flight checks instinctively, One humming into life under his fingertips, as eager to head back into sunnier skies as her pilot. There was no real need to ask for clearance, but Scott found himself reaching for the comm anyway. John was ready and waiting, his hologram form leaping into existence above the control column.

"Skies are clear, One, you are go for launch."

"FAB."

After life under constant shutters ever since his return to Tracy Island, it took Scott a few seconds longer than usual for his vision to adjust. The storm that had been rumbling around the horizon for the past couple of days had finally hit their shores and the weather warnings flashing above the controls warned him of excessive crosswinds that would make his launch from under the swimming pool a challenge. It wasn't a concern – Scott had launched in far worse conditions. He felt the power trembling under his hands as One's engines grumbled into life.

"Ready, Parker?"

Parker cleared his throat. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"Good enough for me."

Thunderbird One seemed to hover for a brief moment, straining against the power of the gale rushing off the ocean, then she broke through the barrier and rocketed skywards. The familiar thrill of flying hit him like a firecracker and he only just managed to bite back an excited whoop as the pressure pushed him back in his seat. One shattered the sound barrier and flung herself into supersonic speed in seconds. Scott took a moment to scan the skies ahead, set a flight path, and then eased forwards on the throttle until the gauge entered hypersonic levels.

"All okay back there?" He twisted in his seat when there was no immediate reply. Parker's gaze was caught by the glass panel beneath their feet, eyes bright with adrenaline and the sense of awe that came with seeing the clouds rush by. He registered Scott's question a moment later and looked up to give a sharp nod.

"All okay 'ere."

Scott reached for the radio. "Tracy Island, we are en-route to Jerusalem."

There was a brief silence before the comm crackled into life. "Affirmative One. Keep us in the loop. We'll be waiting."

"Thanks, John. I'm going to try to contact the city. Can EOS get us permission to land?"

EOS's hologram appeared. "Already working on it. I'll let you know when they finally answer." Her voice was tinged with frustration. "They're being… tiresome."

John laughed and tried to cover it up. "Believe me, EOS, I can sympathise." He retreated back into his International Rescue persona. "Thunderbird One, please be advised that there are rough skies ahead. Take a detour. It'll save fuel in the long run."

"FAB, switching routes now."

Thunderbird One slipped out of cloud-ridden airspace and into clearer skies. At first Scott couldn't understand why the ocean appeared so hazy. EOS wordlessly offered him a chemical analysis of the sky below. It was riddled with miniscule molecules of debris from burning cities and, even worse, traces of human remains. Scott pressed a fist to his mouth and exhaled slowly. Parker gave a muffled exclamation that was never to be repeated around Alan.

The air pollution was getting worse and they weren't even twenty miles from the coast yet. Scott checked the status of the filters and was relieved to find they were in tiptop condition.

The coast of southern Africa entered One's radar, the distance closing rapidly. Another alert flashed up, but Scott dismissed it. He didn't need Thunderbird Five's advanced scanning systems to tell him what he could see with his own eyes – there were several thick plumes of smoke rising along the horizon. It looked as though multiple volcanoes were erupting at once, except this was impossible because Scott knew for a fact that there were no volcanoes in this region. It was just cities and towns and people. They were burning. Suddenly he was grateful for the thunder of One's engines, because without them he was at risk of imagining that he could hear the screaming.

Safety regulations demanded that all on board were to remain strapped into their seats until the Thunderbird had officially landed, but when Scott heard the click of Parker's harness releasing he didn't complain. It was all he could do to keep them level and flying straight. He'd seen some horrific things in his life but this… nothing could compare. For the first time, he wished that One didn't have a glass panel underfoot. He could do without the current view.

Parker stood at Scott's shoulder, one hand gripping the back of the pilot's chair. They flew in silence, unable to comprehend the grim sight below. Everywhere Scott looked was in ruins. Collapsed buildings, smouldering rubble, everything splashed in red and smeared with bodily fluids. For him to be able to see it from this altitude… he could only guess at how graphic it was on the ground. The cockpit spun a little at the edges. He relinquished his grip on the throttle and bent forwards, his chest painfully tight. A gloved hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed.

"You're alright, lad," Parker said quietly, gentler than Scott had imagined him capable of. "Just keep breathin'. You can fly this 'bird in your sleep, so don't worry about that. Deep breaths now."

Scott screwed his eyes shut until he could see spots. He could taste ash on his tongue, but it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Parker's hand on his shoulder was a warm weight, anchoring him to reality until he could reach for the controls once again.

"Thunderbird One, how's it looking?"

Scott exchanged a sombre look with Parker.

"John, are you alone?" Scott finally asked.

John paused. "Yes," he replied hesitantly. "I'm in the Roundhouse. Grandma made everyone else eat lunch downstairs. Why? What do you see?"

Scott swallowed. "I…" His voice refused to work. Parker squeezed his shoulder again. "You were right. Everything is gone. The coastal cities are all overrun." He clawed a hand through his air. "This is a nightmare, Jay. A total fucking nightmare."

"Keep it together."

Scott forgot about the second person in his cockpit for a brief second as he shot back, "hey Five, go fuck yourself."

Parker's amused snort broke the tension.

"Always a pleasure doing business with you, One," John quipped.

Scott cracked a smile despite the circumstances. "I'm a perfect goddam gentleman."

"I'll be sure to let Penny know."

Parker cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Oh relax, Parker," John told him. "You know I'm only joking. Besides, Penelope is so far out of Scott's league that it's laughable."

"Quite right," Parker agreed.

Scott shot them both an unimpressed glare. "Ouch. Thanks, guys. I'm really feeling the love." He took his eyes off the sky in time to glimpse John's secretive smile and Parker's smirk, and suddenly realised that he was no longer in danger of completely breaking down. Huh. Johnny was sneaky.

"FAB?" John asked gently.

Scott eased One into higher skies. "We are FAB," he confirmed, relaxing a little in the face of his younger brother's obvious relief. It was rare for John to wear his emotions on his sleeve like this.

The radio crackled again as they approached Israeli airspace. It was an unknown voice demanding identification. Parker crept back to his seat as Scott hit the comm and slipped into his International Rescue Commander role, smooth talking with an easy smile.

"This is Scott Tracy of International Rescue, requesting immediate clearance to land."

"Clearance denied."

Scott narrowed his eyes. EOS had reappeared above his dash, her lights red with irritation. It was time to twist the truth a little.

"Tower, we are running low on fuel and are coming in for an emergency landing. Pan, pan, repeat, coming in for an immediate landing."

In other words, please be advised that we're not taking no for an answer.

"Blimey," Parker muttered. "They're not taking any chances with that wall, are they?"

Scott had been too focussed on landing to take much notice of the defences but now, as Thunderbird One settled on the tarmac, her fuel gauge still firmly in the green despite what he'd told the Tower, he was able to get a good look. The wall was concrete and stood several stories high, taller than most buildings, and ran as far as the eye could see, presumably encasing the entire city as well as the airfield. The air was abuzz with traffic – military helicopters with GDF aerial drones for additional support patrolling the borders. Every so often a shot would ring out.

"They're heavily armed," Parker commented.

Scott slid out of his seat to peer out of the window at his companion's targets. Parker nodded to the pair of soldiers stalking across the runway to greet them, heavy rifles glittering in the sun. The grenades hooked to the pair's hips didn't escape Scott's notice either.

"Stay close," he said as he reached for the lever to open the outer hatch.

Parker raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Wasn't planning on making a run for it."

Scott was met by a wave of arid heat and the barrel of a rifle when he stepped onto the tarmac. It wasn't the best greeting in the world but at least they hadn't been shot on sight. He lifted his hands in surrender and gestured to the International Rescue logo on his shoulder, as if Thunderbird One wasn't already enough of a hint. In his peripheral vision, he glimpsed Parker doing the same.

The first soldier lowered their rifle and barked something into a radio. The second kept their weapon trained on Scott, but at least looked vaguely apologetic about it. Parker grumbled under his breath but remained stock still. Thunderbird One's hatch closed under EOS's remote instructions and Scott let his shoulders slump a little. It was suffocatingly hot. In the distance he could hear singing.

"International Rescue." The sudden English was biting and Scott hadn't expected it, but it was a relief not to have to rely on the translator in his earpiece all the time. The man in front of him was clearly a high-level military commander, and Scott was pleased to be met with a smile rather than yet another gun. "What a surprise to see you here. Not here on behalf of the World Council or GDF are you?"

Scott shook his head. "Haven't heard a word from either of them since this entire mess started."

The commander gave a derisive snort. "I doubt that, given it actually began several weeks ago." He examined Scott's startled expression with a wry smile. "Come with me. I'll show you around. Scott Tracy, was it?"

"Yes." Scott sidestepped to fall into place alongside the commander. At some point he hoped to actually hear the man's name. "And this is my colleague, Parker."

Parker's smile was more sharp teeth than genuine friendliness. "Pleasure to make yer acquaintance, sir."

"Believe me, the pleasure's all mine. International Rescue is always welcome. You've been a great help to my people over the years." The commander waved to one of the trucks sitting under a shady canopy by a gated hangar. "I do wish this visit were under better circumstances though. My city is a beautiful place, but I'm afraid you're not seeing it at its best."

"Don't worry," Scott muttered. "It's a darn sight better than many of the places we saw on the way."

They piled into a Jeep. It was military grade, heavily fortified, and tarpaulin roof had been replaced by armoured plating. Scott sat in the back, pressed against the door, resting his elbow on the open window to feel the rush of cooler air against his overheated skin. Parker had to be sweltering too, but seemed to be hiding it better, or perhaps he'd just figured out the temperature regulator in his suit already, unlike Scott. The Commander took the front passenger seat and the two soldiers from before took the driver's seat and remaining back passenger seat respectively. The giant gates barring the airport from public access creaked open as they approached and then they were off.

It was a short track to the city as the airport was located so close, but it was enough of a trek for Scott to notice the extensive refugee camps. The stench of human excrement and body odour was enough to turn his stomach even at a distance. Ragged clothing lines flapped in the breeze. Somewhere, a child was crying. People staggered in lines that were gridlocked, those at the front pleading and begging with the guards at the gateposts, only to be turned away.

Parker leaned closer and tilted his head ever-so-slightly. Scott followed his friend's line of vision and fought not to react. All those years playing poker with John were finally paying off, but it still took a monumental amount of self-control to keep the horror off his face when he registered that there were hundreds of refugees packed into cages, like rabid animals.

"We have to keep a strict quarantine," the soldier in the backseat beside them said quietly, deliberately keeping her voice hushed. From the disgust in her words, Scott gathered that she didn't approve of it either. "If they turn, they're already trapped, so the city remains safe."

"If they turn, they'll kill everybody else in that cage," Parker pointed out.

The solider grimaced and turned away. Scott glimpsed the rigid shoulders of the Commander and had the uncanny sense that if he put the slightest foot wrong, neither he nor Parker would be flying out of here in one piece. He flexed his hands against his knees and dragged his gaze away from the sobbing cages. Thank God he hadn't allowed Kayo to come along. His sister wouldn't have been able to walk away.

The roads were clear as they drove into the city. The speed of the car carried a relieving breeze that slunk through the windows and dried the sweat on their skin.

Scott glimpsed the Israeli flags fluttering on the building tops, half-mast. His dark sense of humour raised its head. He couldn't help himself. He turned to Parker and whispered, "who died?"

Parker's eyes glittered with wry amusement. "That's not very funny, Mister Tracy."

"Maybe not, but you're still laughing."

Parker peered out at the dusty streets. "We're being watched."

Scott couldn't see anything, but the idea that they were under surveillance didn't surprise him. "We're outsiders. It makes sense."

Parker's jaw clenched. "I know. Doesn't mean I like it."

It didn't escape Scott's notice that Parker had shifted in such a way that meant he was shielding Scott from any potential sniper shots through the window. Maybe they should have claimed to be working for the GDF after all – it may have offered more protection.

Despite the fact that the world had ended beyond the city walls, people didn't seem concerned. Residents appeared to be continuing life as usual. Scott had to question whether there was some sort of media censorship going on but figured that even if the news channels weren't reporting on the undead stalking the planet, the distant snarling and explosions and sudden influx of refugees had to have tipped people off that something wasn't quite right. In a way, it was a relief to be back in a normal human civilisation. He hadn't believed he'd ever be so glad to witness someone buying bread from a market stand, or to see a mother guiding her children across a street crossing.

The truck grumbled to a halt outside a hospital. Parker took the lead, a few steps ahead of Scott, uniform glaringly dark in the halogen lights as they entered the stairwell. Scott faltered, pulse hammering. His ears were roaring. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. It didn't matter that he kept seeing bloody handprints and crooked smiles clawing up the stairs towards him, that there were screams echoing around his skull, that his shoulder was pounding with pain, because none of it was real. This wasn't New York and he wasn't alone.

"You alright?" Parker questioned, slowing down a little.

Scott clenched his hands into fists and felt the metal braces across his knuckles dig into his skin. He inhaled deeply. The air tasted of dust and chemicals. He looked up to meet Parker's concerned gaze.

"Yeah," he said at last, gripping the handrail until he could feel it through his padded gloves. "I'm fine. Just hot."

Parker clearly didn't believe this lie for a second but accepted it without further complaint. They split away from the Commander as they were directed down a different corridor. The hospital rooms, usually full in a city of this size, were conspicuously empty. The rotating fans cast strange shadows across the walls. Scott fell into step with Parker, suddenly glad of the familiar company.

They were shuffled into a room that was mostly bare. A scruffy man with a reddened face and sweat-licked shirt was perched behind a desk, examining the hologram of a DNA strand. It had been years since Scott had taken Biology and even longer still since Parker had, but from the frown they both shared it was clear that they both knew something wasn't quite right with it. Scott set his wrist-console to record so that Brains and Virgil could take a crack at the puzzle later.

The doctor introduced himself as an ex-GDF advisor. While he had medical training, he was more of a military figure than a practician, but it didn't matter, because Scott had glimpsed the files on the desk, hidden behind the hologram projector, and EOS was in his ear, murmuring details she'd picked from the servers. This was their guy.

Small talk was an unnecessary politeness and a complete waste of time, but Scott had been CEO of Tracy Industries long enough to know that they wouldn't get anywhere without it, and Parker had been a part of the political world at Penelope's side for too many years to not understand the mind games at play. Scott took the offered chair while Parker accepted a glass of water and stood by the open window, observing the streets below. They were several stories up, which gave the man a clear view of the city-wide wall. Scott felt better knowing Parker had his back, which allowed him to fully focus on picking the brains of the doctor.

"Do you know what the main issue was? Why the rest of the world was too slow?" The doctor took a long drink of water. His cup was dusty but somehow he didn't cough. "Because they didn't believe. It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? The undead? And there was precious little evidence."

"Yet the GDF knew to build bunkers."

The doctor raised his glass. "Exactly. Now you're getting it. The entire world knew there was a problem, but no one wanted to believe it. Zombies. That's something out of a videogame or crappy film. You don't get the undead in real life."

Scott leant forwards. "International Rescue has been in partnership with the GDF for almost a decade, but we didn't hear anything. How did Israel know to close their borders so quickly? Hell, how did you know to build a wall?"

The doctor smiled. "Ah, Mister Tracy. Asking the real questions, I see." He crossed his arms, considering. "We intercepted a message from an Indian general, claiming that they were fighting the Rakshasha."

"Zombies," EOS translated in Scott's ear. "Or technically… the undead."

Scott still didn't buy it. There was something that didn't add up, like a mismatched puzzle piece. He tilted back in his chair and studied the man in front of him. The doctor didn't strike him as a particularly imaginative fellow and the World Council at large hadn't ever been known for making split-second decisions.

"You seriously expect me to believe that you decided to spend millions on building a wall because you intercepted a communique that mentioned the word 'zombie'?"

The doctor faltered. His gaze flickered to the papers on his desk and back up. He pushed his chair away with a screech. "Come with me."

His footsteps rang loudly in the empty corridor. Scott waited in the doorway for Parker to tear himself away from the window. The distant throbbing of propellers promised that more helicopters were on their way around to scan this section of the city for infected.

"Where's he taking us now?" Parker queried when he was within earshot. He looked strange in his black International Rescue uniform, intimidating and more like the trained bodyguard Scott knew him to be. "I don't like this."

"Neither do I," Scott admitted. "But I don't see what else we can do. We need answers."

Parker muttered something under his breath that would have had Grandma whacking his knuckles with the dreaded wooden spoon. Scott patted his friend's shoulder and slipped into the corridor, determined to keep the doctor in his sights.

Impossibly, it had grown hotter. They kept the windows rolled up this time and the aircon shrieked in protest when Parker reached between the front seats to turn it to the highest level. Scott took the passenger seat while the doctor drove, surprised that Parker readily agreed to this setup. When he looked over his shoulder, he discovered that Parker was alert, tense in anticipation of action, with a set of gleaming knives tucked up his sleeve.

"Typically, when the big guys tell you not to worry," the doctor was saying, in gravelly, dry tones that spoke of decades of personal experience, "that's when you should pack your bags and get the fuck outta there. Well, the World Council told us not to worry. America told us not to worry. So, we worried. We took a closer look at the data. We created a specialised team to follow leads and find more evidence and then we took action before anyone could tell us to sit back down. The GDF didn't like that. Said we were going to create a panic, so they lied."

"Trading disputes," Scott recalled. "Immigration issues."

"Exactly." The doctor spat. "Fucking cowards. Do you know how many people are dead?"

"Do you know how many people are suffering in cages within your city?" Scott shot back instinctively and immediately cursed himself. "I get it. I understand why you need to quarantine the refugees. But they're people, your people. What happened to human rights?"

The doctor shot him a sideways glance. "What happened to the humans?"

Parker chuckled darkly. "Touché."

The streets had grown busier, cluttered with people and vehicles. The air pulsated with the thunder of propellers. Scott bent over the dashboard to glimpse the sky through the tinted windscreen. A series of three helicopters were swooping over the city. They were so low that he could pick out the guns, massive, artillery, the doors flung open as though the crew were expecting a shoot-out at any second.

"EOS," Scott murmured, pressing a thumb to his earpiece as surreptitiously as possible. "What's the situation outside the wall?"

"Not brilliant," EOS replied hesitantly. She sounded nervous. Scott caught Parker's eye in the rear mirror. Parker was looped into the same IR frequency and as such could hear everything that the AI was saying. None of it sounded good. "They're grouping en-mass. It's… it's almost like they're thinking as a pack. Collecting together, coordinating, forming a human ladder so they can breach the city."

Parker gritted his teeth and twisted so that he was facing the door, one hand hovering above the handle. Scott returned his attention to the doctor. They were cruising ever closer to the marketplace that was closest to the wall, the entirely opposite direction to the airport. Instinct told him that shit was about to hit the fan, big time. For a brief moment he contemplated activating Protocol Alpha and calling Thunderbird One to his location, but he pushed the urge aside. If he left now, he'd be none the wiser as to how this entire mess had started, and the sight of a Thunderbird was likely to incite a mass panic amongst the crowds.

The truck jolted to a halt. Scott squinted to avoid being blinded by flashing emergency lights. A series of police cars blocked the road ahead. The remaining tracks were pedestrianised.

The doctor swung himself out of the truck and beckoned for them to follow him. Scott didn't hesitate but heard Parker's indistinct curse. They traipsed up a flight of stairs and through a marble-floored hallway. Doors parted and Scott threw up a hand as he was temporarily dazzled by bright sunlight.

"You asked me about the quarantine zones," the doctor said. "Those people have been exposed and have displayed similar symptoms to those that have begun the first stages of infection. But we have not forgotten about the sanctity of life." He swept a hand across the balcony. "These are the Jerusalem Salvation Gates."

Scott stepped up to the railing. "Oh my god," he breathed, taking in the sight before him. "You're letting people in."

Parker rubbed his eyes. "Cor blimey," he muttered. "That's a bit of a risk."

"Every human we save is one less zombie we have to fight."

It was a sound argument, but Scott had his doubts over the security. From the swarm of helicopters around the gates, it didn't seem like safest plan. There had to be a better way, but this… At least people had a place of refuge, a glimmer of hope. At the moment, it seemed like the real villains were the GDF.

Parker was eyeing the gates. "Wouldn't it attract more zombies? Having so many people in such a small place?"

The doctor pointed to the helicopters. "Air patrols pick off the biggest packs. It's a risk, yes, but it's still better than the alternative."

They made their way back down to street-level. Parker wanted a closer inspection of the Salvation Gates, so Scott waited on the steps with the doctor, just outside the main crowd.

"How did this start? Do you have any idea?"

The doctor made a vague gesture. "There are any number of theories."

"You intercepted a message from India. Does that mean Patient Zero originated there?"

"Listen, Scott, can I call you that? Scott, you need to forget about Patient Zero. There were reports from everywhere. You've got a continent-wide organ market, illegal testing on old-school diseases in laboratories that don't officially exist, germ warfare on the downlow… you may think we're living in the future, but it's a lie. Think about it. In the past year we've had multiple global attacks from terrorists such as the Hood. Threats are all around us."

Scott fixed his sight on the flash of Parker's uniform amid the milling crowd. "Is there anyone I can speak to in India?"

"India's a black hole, has been for days. You'd have more luck trying to track down the GDF. Look, it's too late to be trying to cure this thing, and that's the truth of it. All you can do is find somewhere to hide."

Scott took his eyes off Parker to glare at the doctor. "I don't have that option. My family's safe for now but living behind a big wall is only a temporary fix. We need a long-term solution."

The doctor snorted. "Give me a call when you work that solution out, would you? I'd love to hear it. Hell, I'll even buy you a drink."

Scott opened his mouth to reply when a burst of static caught his attention. A woman with a microphone had begun singing, her voice rising and falling and riling the crowds. It was a beautiful harmony and ordinarily Scott would have been happy to witness some positivity after all the death, but he was too concerned with the way the helicopters had suddenly rounded in an attack formation.

"Scott!" Parker's shout rose above the chanting. He burst free of the crowds, clouds of dust rising around his boots. His eyes were wild, hands a blur as he gestured frantically to the wall. "It's too loud! Make 'em shut it off!"

Scott caught him by the shoulders before he could slip. "What are you talking about?"

"The singing, the crowd, it's too loud. It's riling the infected up. They're gonna breach the wall. I saw it happen in London." Parker seized Scott's wrist, grip almost painfully tight. "This gonna turn into a blood bath." He whirled around to face the doctor. "It's too loud, don't ya understand? It's too fucking loud."

The doctor stared at them mutely. There were several soldiers rushing through the crowds. Scott heard the distinct clicks of loaded guns.

"Shit. Parker's right. It's too loud." He raised his voice to a frantic shout. "It's too loud! You need to be quiet! You're drawing them right to us! Fuck. I don't know Hebrew. EOS? I need a translation, like yesterday."

"Scott," Parker whispered, voice cracking. "It's too late."

A gnarled hand scrabbled at the top of the wall. Scott choked on clean air. Adrenaline made him giddy. Someone screamed.

"They're coming over the top!"

The doctor's shout echoed around the courtyard. Scott recognised the instant that panic set in and control was lost. People were no longer acting rationally. Their instincts had taken over. He couldn't hear himself think above the screaming. Infected were pouring over the wall at terrifying speeds. The height of the fall didn't seem to affect them. They clawed their way forwards on shattered bones.

Blood drenched the concrete. Gun shots shook dust from the roofs. A cry was cut short by snarling. One of the guns clattered against the ground. On the other side of the wall, a plume of smoke was rising, accompanied by the bright glow of an active fire. A chopper was down.

"Scott!" Parker yanked Scott's arm. "We've gotta go."

It was the jolt Scott needed. He bolted for the nearest alleyway, trying to keep away from the packed streets where people were trapped like herded cattle. Parker was at his heels, metal flashing as the armoured plating around his helmet activated, locking into place to protect the seal so that theoretically no part of his suit could be perforated.

"What about Thunderbird One?"

Scott gestured to the slanted rooftops around them. "I can't get One close enough. There's nowhere to land. We've gotta get closer to the airfield."

"How much bloody closer?" Parker shouted.

"Uh…" Scott activated his own armour. The screams were suddenly muted by his helmet so that all he could hear was Parker's laboured breathing and his own pounding heart. "Closer than this."

They broke free from the narrow alleyway into a larger corridor that fed between two buildings, overhung by a metal grill. The entire thing shook as though a great weight had smashed into the end. Scott dared a glance back and nearly choked on his own saliva. An infected was lunging at Parker, blackened drool and bloodied nails tearing at the grate. Parker hadn't yet noticed, too focussed on sprinting. The grill buckled. Scott slowed.

"What is it?" Parker yelled as he caught up, but Scott just grabbed the back of Parker's suit and shoved him towards the bright light at the end of the corridor.

The grate gave way. The zombie plunged through the gap. Yellowed eyes were dead set on Parker's undefended back. Scott threw himself in its path with an incoherent shout. His hand closed around the gun at his hip. He didn't need to think, just raise, aim, fire. A fine spray of blood cascaded across his visor, and he recoiled in disgust, dry heaving, gasping as fresh oxygen was fed into his helmet from his tank.

"Dammit Tracy, get moving."

Hands yanked at his suit. Scott stumbled, caught himself against a strong shoulder, and picked up the pace. The corridor merged into a packed street. The end was a torrent of blood and frantic screams, people clawing at those they had once called friends as the infected tore them to shreds from behind. Parker tripped. Scott caught him, dragging him forwards, running for the both of them until Parker regained his balance.

"Son of a bitch!" Scott tore sideways down a different path, but they all led to the same square. Parker's prediction of a bloodbath had come true. Infected swarmed the city. Claw marks, snarls, panicked cries, sobs, car alarms wailing, the constant throb of propellers and gunfire… Scott muted his helmet again. Parker slammed into his back as he skidded to a halt.

"What is it?"

Scott pointed to the sea of infected ahead of them. Parker cursed.

"There's nowhere wide enough for me to bring in One."

"Then we use the roofs." Parker caught Scott's panicked gaze. "Listen Scott, we're not dying here. I made a vow to protect Penelope and her Ladyship needs me more than ever, just like your brothers need you. So c'mon, Mister International Rescue, how do we solve this problem?"

Scott slid his gun back into his holster and reached for a grapple-launcher instead. The sound of the metal connecting with concrete drew the attention of multiple zombies. He didn't have time to check it had locked into place, nor did he have time to fire a second grapple, so he flung himself at Parker and threw them both off the edge of the precipice they had reached.

They smashed into the roof of the building opposite. Scott landed heavily and his shoulder screamed. He couldn't breathe, his ribs were on fire, but Parker was already scrambling to his feet, suit streaked in blood that wasn't his own. He reached down and hauled Scott upright.

"Which way?"

Scott blinked. His vision was swimming. Blood was trickling from his temple. When he'd tackled Parker, he'd twisted them so that he'd hit the roof first, which meant that while Parker had been fine, Scott was partly convinced he was sporting a concussion.

EOS interjected over the comms link. "Head west. I'm highlighting the route on your wrist consoles now. Good luck."

"EOS, I know we set off on the wrong foot, but please know that I love you," Scott informed her breathlessly, charging over blood-slicked tiles.

Parker's laugh was rough. His knives were stained crimson. Scott hadn't even noticed the other man use them. An infected smashed into the slates ahead of them. Rotting nails lunged for Scott's helmet, clawing, snapping, greedy. Metal flashed. Parker's shoulders heaved from the effort it took to drive one of his blades through thick skull. The zombie crumpled into a lifeless heap.

"Thanks," Scott gasped.

Parker shot him a grim smile. "Don't thank me yet."

An engine screamed. Scott recognised the sounds of a helicopter in trouble and an ancient instinct told him to duck. He grabbed Parker's shoulders and yanked him down, pinning them both to the rooftop, just in time for a smoking chopper to spiral to the ground, warped propellers slicing through the air where'd they just been.

"See?" Scott joked as Parker blinked wildly. "Now we're even."

"Very funny," Parker growled, boots slipping on bloodied stone.

Scott laughed past strained breaths. "Ah, you know me Parker. I live to please."

"You should have the airfield in your sights in five, four, three, two…" EOS counted down in their ears.

"One," Scott snarled, and threw himself into a slide. The drop from the overhanging roof to the ground was short but the jolt through his knees was painful enough to add a faint limp to his sprint. Parker was even worse off, his gait stumbling, more panicked than practised sprinting now. Scott reached back and flung an arm around his friend's shoulders, forcing them to move faster as zombies finally broke through the gates to the airfield.

An explosion ripped through the front runners, sending limbs and splintered bone and smoking blood sky-high. The shockwave from the grenade smacked into Scott's back. His ears wailed as the comms were scrambled, but then the backup regulator kicked in. His back was stinging as though it had been burnt. Parker's suit looked mildly scorched.

A torrent of infected flooded across the airfield. Engines screeched as the panicked pilots of an overloaded Airbus struggled to take flight before they could smash into the writhing bodies on the runway.

Something snarled. A weight tackled Scott from the side. Parker's knife whistled and a hellish gurgling sound followed a new spray of blood. The undead was immediately replaced by another. Scott twisted, relying on Parker to guide him across the terrain whilst he took out the closest zombies with wild shots.

"Go, go, go," EOS was screaming.

Scott slammed a hand into his wrist-console. "Activate Protocol Alpha."

Thunderbird One rose into the air, a glorious avenging angel formed of silver, blue and red. Her engines torched the nearest infected. Scott skidded to a halt as his 'bird swooped low, her hatch opening to catch him. It was a short jump, but he nearly didn't make it, shoving Parker up first then hauling himself over the edge too.

Parker's grip on his wrists was painful, yanking him the rest of the way and over the lip of the hatch. The bay doors closed under them. Scott felt the sudden weight of gravity slam into his chest, pinning him against the bulkhead as EOS took remote control and sent Thunderbird One soaring to maximum altitude, far out of reach of the dying city below.

Then all was quiet.

"Scott? Scott! Are you with me?"

Scott didn't realise he'd blacked out for a moment until he opened his eyes to the sight of Parker's worried face hovering above his own. He reached up to pat his friend's chest, lightly pushing Parker aside so that he could sit up. His helmet was lying to the side, giving him free access to probe the gash across his temple.

"Holy shit," he whispered.

Parker exhaled. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

They exchanged a long look. Parker's lips twitched. Scott failed to repress a snort. And then they both lost it, doubling over with great, full-body laughs, ribs aching with the sheer force of hysterical relief. Scott dragged himself to the cockpit, where his beautiful, clever girl greeted him with dimmed lights, as if she knew how badly his head was pounding, and dear god had he mentioned how much he loved One recently?

"Tracy Island," he ground out, suddenly uncaring as to who picked up and heard the pain in his voice, because he was alive, holy hell. "This is Thunderbird One. Parker and I are returning to base. ETA: ten minutes."

"Scotty, you beautiful bastard," Gordon replied almost instantly. "You have no idea how happy we are to hear that."


You know what? I'm gonna say it: Parker is underrated. Boom. I said it.

See ya next Friday!

Review?

Kat x