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[ the top floor ]

Jul. 23rd, 2007 | 12:11 am
location: the top floor of CP&S
mood: accomplishedaccomplished
posted by: ilookgreat in summerofzombies

“Have you ever wondered what’s on the top floor?”

He’s grinning like a madman, which isn’t too different from the ordinary. Today is a good day for Denny Crane, because he found a key on one of his usual tours through the building with his trusted mail cart and assorted weaponry. There’s nothing special from the look of it – just an ordinary key, dangling on a keychain that just so happens to have a large E hanging from it as well. But, E stands for Edwin, who just so happened to win one hand of poker in his life.

“When this building was still under construction,” and he explains this as if it is a history lesson, because for Alan, Greg, and Whatever-Her-Name-Is it is something of one, “the three of us – Crane, Poole, and Schmidt – spent so much time at the office, we practically lived here. When we got this fancy office, we decided to have a space just for that. Living.”

He’s led them up the rumored stairs-to-nowhere that the interns often joke about. It’s a simple flight of stairs, clearly seen in the lobby, but go to a locked door. It’s been assumed that door once lead just to the top of the building – to the roof, perhaps? – and was locked for the safety of Denny Crane since he has gone a little bonkers these days. And, really, today seems no different as he’s practically tap-dancing with glee over a seemingly meaningless key. But, he wiggles said key into the lock, his grin gets wider as if that’s honestly possible.

“Welcome to the suites of Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. We have beds, showers, all the comforts of home away from home.” He gives a nod to Alan and lowers his tone slightly. “I would’ve told you sooner, son, but I didn’t think I’d find the key – didn’t want to get your hopes up. Edwin won the key in poker game. The only time he won a game in his life was when I bet that damn key. That crazy bastard hid it in a filing cabinet on the eighth floor.

“I do miss that crazy bastard. Denny Crane.” he shakes his head. “We’ve got three separate rooms – one for each named partner. We never let Paul have one. So, the leggy one can stay with me.”

“I’m sure House is flattered,” Allison says, crossing her arms and giving him nothing but a roll of her eyes and a tired sigh.

“I meant you,” he states, then as a positive affirmation adds, “Denny Crane.”

“That’s your name. Mine’s Allison,” she sighs.

“Feisty.” He snorts at this but gives an awkward shrug. “I’m staying in my room. The three of you can figure out how to make your own sleeping arrangements. We should be safe enough up here without needing to stand guard – zombies aren’t smart enough to work elevators, and the stairs are blocked off on the first floor.”

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[ it had to happen sometime. ]

Jul. 17th, 2007 | 12:03 am
location: Alan's office? Denny's office? ...CP&S building. Boston.
posted by: lovely_damage in summerofzombies

Allison's memory is a funny thing. She can recall the exact time and place and date from when she lost her first tooth. She can rattle off all her calculus scores from both high school and college. She can still recite nursery rhymes in French. But she can't remember how she ended up on this particular couch.

This environment is still new to her. Her eyes open slowly, adjusting to the lighting. She's covered with a blanket, which she finds as a tender gesture - one she can only assume was made by Alan. She rubs her eyes a little with the back of her hand. She's in an office, but she isn't sure whose. She wonders how long she's slept. Her eyes dart around for some kind of indication as to what time is is, but she finds nothing but closed blinds from her vantage point.

However, what she does discover sends an uneasy feeling to the pit of her stomach. She rolls onto her side, leaning her weight on her elbow until she's sort of upright, propping slightly. She swallows, trying to relieve the sudden lump that's taken up residence in the back of her throat., but it all feels like cotton. Her hair is down, which she finds odd because she knows it was in a bun. Her mind is fuzzy and racing.

"House." She finally says his name, acknowledging the fact that he's here. She doesn't understand, but she makes a sleepy mental note to add it to the ever-growing list of things she doesn't believe will ever be understood. "It... it's good to see you."

[OOC: Whee. I hope this is okay. It had to happen eventually, and well, I was bored and couldn't think of anything more amusing than an awkward, sleep Cameron. If it needs to be changed? Let me know!]

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[ many tried to prove that they're faster, but they didn't last and died as they tried ]

Jun. 29th, 2007 | 09:59 pm
location: crane, poole & schmidt
music: "Hell Bent For Leather" -- Judas Priest
posted by: smrtr_than_you in summerofzombies

House had toyed with the idea of lingering in Princeton, to go back to his apartment despite all the whining the Eternally Annoying Voice of Wilson was doing in his head. It was, after all, pretty much the only place House had managed to stay put over the years. He didn't clean his apartment not only because he was crippled and lazy (and a gaping, angry hole in his leg pretty much justified not doing anything but sit on his ass and watch television in House's mind), but because he liked the dust. He liked how it drove any sensible person who visited him fucking nuts, and he liked the idea of collecting it. Layers and layers of dirt and mites and dead skin achieved by refusing to move a single damn thing.

(There was a lot of dead skin around these days, though. Fucking trends.)

Still. House had moved before. You don't lose that kind of ability to just chuck everything you know out the window and leave after staying a pathetic fourteen years in one spot. It doesn't go away. House could.

The turnpike, the highways weren't any better. House would never have gotten out without the bike. It's impossible to swerve around cars packed so close together, especially when their half-rotting, half-eaten drivers were slumped out of windows and doors with their torsos gnawed away. After forty-three miles, House trained his eyes forward. (223 miles later, Boston wasn't any better either.)

Here it was, though. Big building. Shiny. House hadn't slept in a day or two, had gone through his vicodin like M&Ms... he was cranky. Judas Priest yelled about how hell bent for leather he was on the last few sparks from the iPod, and House enjoyed the mental image of Denny Crane in his younger days trying to get his ass into leather pants as the bike rolled to a stop in front of the firm. The car in front of him looked a lot like Cameron's, which reminded House how he hadn't thought of his fellows in days. He let himself wonder whether they made it out of Princeton alive or not. Figured Chase would probably have been eaten by now, or become the zombie overlord's minion. Foreman might've gone Bladerunner on their asses, but he'd kick in in the end, too proud to hide. Cameron would probably try to sleep with them. He always knew she was kinky.

House was in luck that the street was deserted. 'Outrunning the Zombies' was one of those fun games he couldn't play anymore, especially after hours on the fucking bike. The balcony House could see from the street was Denny's; Denny made sure to get the balcony view wherever he was. As long as the elevators weren't broken, House was pretty much home free ('Get the Cripple Up the Stairs' was another shit game with zombies around).

Adjusting his backpack over his shoulder and getting a good grip on his cane (his leg hurt like a motherfucker, even underneath the hydrocodone), House headed inside.

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[well, it's not lupus...]

Jun. 19th, 2007 | 03:50 pm
location: princeton plainsboro teaching hospital
posted by: smrtr_than_you in summerofzombies

After all the things that could have, should have gotten House killed in the past, it figures the final shit the world had to throw on his fan was a horde of zombies.

Read more...Collapse )

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[ this is way for two flamingos to go ]

Jun. 18th, 2007 | 10:37 pm
location: crane, poole, & schmidt
mood: bouncybouncy
music: Fox News
posted by: ilookgreat in summerofzombies

Denny Crane has been saying it was mad cow for years, but he's starting to believe it was a misrepresentation of his now apparent precognitive abilities. He's been preparing for this, without knowing exactly, for about as long as he can remember. He's always followed his gut - regardless of how bizarre the impulse. He's kept a wide-range variety of loaded weapons in his desk. He's avoided democratic pansies - except Alan, who isn't to blame for these matters since he's not left Denny's side since the world began to end. He's been storing supplies at work gradually - food, water, clothes, ammunition. He hasn't always had a method to his madness, but he's never had a reason to deny his impulse before. Now he believes the Mad Cow in his brain and Miss Cleo are one in the same because he's been shaping his office into a fort for years. He's Denny Crane - he knows things.

The office, much to his dismay, was fled systematically - lead, naturally, by the marines known as Brad Chase and friends. But, Denny Crane refused to go. It was his office - which was probably the safest place in Boston, given the fact that his office was something of a stronghold - his territory, and he'd be damned if he'd budge now. He spent his life building a legacy of undefeated, and he wasn't about to be defeated now. Shirley and Paul fought to reason with him, but this only resulted in Paul shaking his hand, promising to look after Shirley, and Shirley giving him the kiss to outshine all others in his lifetime. They left without saying a word to Alan, who had been seated in one of the chairs facing Denny's desk, silent and numb, staring blankly as the distorted beings on Fox News.

Denny nurses a glass of scotch as he lays out his arsenal - assorted weaponary that had been taking up residency in his desk for years. He had everything ranging from pistols to shotguns to rifles to knives and, even a sword to make things interesting. He decides for certain now that he must've been a sniper in the military portion of his career, but he really can't prove a thing one way or the other. He turns to Alan, whose scotch remains untouched, "You have to admit, this is the way for two flamingos to go. Drinking scotch, loading guns, killing zombies. It's just the way Denny Crane likes it. Except that we need women. But did you see the way Shirley kissed me? ...damn, she is hot. Do you by chance have those naked photos of her in your desk?" Oh, he acts like it's all ordinary, business as usual, but really, he's elated beyond words and can't understand why anyone feels any different. "I have a doctor on the way, Alan. You're having post-pardum or post-traumatic or pre-menstrual something. Greg will fix it, whatever it is, and before you know it, we'll be back to sitting on our balcony, drinking scotch, making smores, watching the carnage. Denny Crane.."

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[ so i think i'll go to boston ]

Jun. 18th, 2007 | 09:52 pm
location: crane, poole, & schmidt
mood: tiredtired
music: radio
posted by: lovely_damage in summerofzombies

The details in Allison Cameron's memory are now marred, much like the once-human faces she sees on the news. She remembers getting in the car, thinking she was safe so long as she didn't run out of gas. She had no destination in mind - anywhere but here with open roads was fine by her. New Jersey was starting to resemble her copy of Resident Evil 4 - filled with the undead, still unbeaten. She's wishing she had the cheat codes, but she's betting she'd have a better shot if she assumed they all had lupus and treated them accordingly.

She heard that song on the radio between news updates and current death tolls - that one that goes "so I think I'll go to Boston" and it seemed like a good idea. She can't get to her family - everything she holds dear is in the mid-west while she's trapped on the wrong side of the Mississippi River. She wants to blame House for this, but she hasn't worked for him, or seen him in months. He never asked any of them to return - and, once the dead started to rise, the rumor was that House became something of a madman, stealing as many bottles of pain medication from the PPTH pharmacy that his backpack could hold and fled town as fast as his motorcycle could speed. She heard the story from Wilson; she called him before she left, because it felt like the right thing to do.

Allison has a friend in Boston. She has his business card and in precise penmanship scrawled on the back it reads, "should you need anything". She's tried to call, but the cell phone towers are constant broken-record of "I'm sorry, all towers are busy, please try your call again later." She decided just to drive, to see a friend, to see what happens, because it's the end of the world as she knows it, and she's not feeling so fine.

Robert - because, after resigning from duckling status, it only seemed appropriate to start using first names, though she believes he'll always be simply Chase - has been a fit of nervous energy. He had gotten a flight to New York when the stories of the zombies were just rumor and seemed to be nothing more than an elaborately filmed prank. They took turns trying to call Eric, but the only thing they heard was, "Hey, this is Dr. Eric Foreman, I'm sorry I can't take your call right now. Leave a message; I'll get back to you when I'm done saving lives." The more times she heard it, the more hollow it sounded, like she'd never hear her friend's voice again. Robert had flown out to try to find Eric, to see if the rumors were true. He didn't want her to go, just in case it was true. He never thought the pieces would fall quite as they did, but no one ever knows those things until it's in retrospect. Planes were grounded as a matter of national security, and Chase has been a wreck ever since.

It's been three weeks and four days since she's seen her boyfriend - which, still sounds weird to her, because he's Chase, not Robert, not boyfriend, though the terms define him perfectly despite the awkward sound from her lips. They've been able to talk on the phone twice since he's been gone, but they get cut off every time. She doesn't know how they'll find each other again, and she hates how melodramatic it's sounding in her head, but it's a fact. New Jersey isn't safe anymore; people have been fleeing in such a state of chaos that it's been nearly impossible to leave the city. But, she got out. The last time she spoke to Chase, he said he loved her. She said the words back, but she worries now that they didn't sound sincere because truly, she doesn't know if she meant them or if she was afraid it would be the last words they exchanged. As she enters the city limits of Boston, on her way to see another man, she desperately hopes Robert believes her and is going to find a way back to her.

Some streets appear huge, empty like a ghost town. Others are littered with riots and blood and corpses - some dead, some not. She feels as lucky as she can, all things considered, when she accidently finds the law firm of Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. She wondered if anyone would be willing to stay in the building, especially when they made enough money to be lounging the end of the world away in Tahiti, but she came here based on a song lyric with nothing left to lose. She pulls into the parking garage and only sees two cars. She sees plenty of gore - enough to triple the amount she's seen thus far in her medical career and enough to up the rating on the horror film that's become life as she knows it. The corpses all have perfect bullet holes in their rotting skulls - some have had limbs literally shot off and she wonders if she should be more afraid of the one who created carnage out of carnage. She parks between the two cars and quickly tosses all vital things into her purse. She inhales sharply and covers her nose and mouth with the front of her shirt as she opens the car door, holding her breath to avoid vomiting from the stench of the undead. Her kitten heels click and make sharp echos as she runs, quick as she can, to the door. She doesn't know if the undead are really dead now, and she certainly doesn't want to tempt fate by casually strolling across the expanse of the garage. She is, however, admittedly surprised to find the door unlocked, but judging from the nearby leftovers, whomever is inside isn't afraid of company.

She follows a winding hallway and calmly presses the buttons in the elevator, as if this is a perfectly normal visit. She stretches her legs, grateful to be out of the car and honestly not certain of how long she'd been driving. She twists her hair up into a bun with the hairtie that's been around her wrist long enough to leave a mark. She smooths out the wrinkles in her shirt, trying to look presentable even though it probably doesn't matter to anyone at this point. The elevator chimes and she steps out, walking through the lobby with hesitant steps. Her voice is a little hoarse, simply from little use over the past few days, as she calls, "Hello? Anyone here? I'm looking for Alan Shore."

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[it begins]

Jun. 18th, 2007 | 09:30 pm
location: crane, poole & schmidt - boston
mood: worriedworried
posted by: alan_shore in summerofzombies

"I knew this day would come."


'No.'Collapse )

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