Chapter 10

Infected Demographics, excerpt from Chapter Two: the European Crisis

It did not take a very long time for the major cities of the world to fall. The first epi-center, London, spread out and consumed The United Kingdom. It was not simply one person infecting another, but one person infected dozens at a time.

Taking it from a purely analytical viewpoint it makes sense. For instance, patient Z-290 from Middlesex Hospital was one infected person transported to the hospital. When they turned they killed three people and infected six others who were trying to restrain them. Hospital authorities had no understanding of the virus at this time and therefore were quite surprised when two of the three victims rose from the dead, killing all eight morgue attendants. Meanwhile, the other six infected went along their daily business. Two turned at home killing their entire families and as far as we know, made great progress on their neighbors before the government understood what was happening. Another was killed at a dinner party after infecting three others, two’s whereabouts were never discovered, and the last individual, an American visiting scientist, immediately flew back to the United States to seek help from the Center of Disease Control; thus of course launching a new wave of infection on the East Coast of the United States.

London’s outbreak, it seemed, devoured the entire county within days of the first victims reporting to the public hospital. We now know of course that it actually took six days, since many of the victims were taken to a private hospital run by the Council. But to many people, it seemed that the world ended in a span of 24 hours. At a conservative rate of 5 infections per zombie, by the time the Council fled London there were over 15,000 zombies in the city. Thousands upon thousands had fled to the outer areas of England and into Wales, Scotland and Ireland.

France’s human population was obliterated within a week after the United Kingdom’s but not before Paris practically burned to the ground. Of course, when one references survivors in France, they are of course referring to Southern France and the resistance there. Northern France had already been consumed by the zombies, the fires, and the panicked masses.

Within a week of Paris and London, the whole of Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany all suffered similar fates. Within the first month, much of Southern Continental Europe was no more.

The Icelandic countries soon became a refuge for many. Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Northern Russia had extremely low rates of infected, especially once the countries grounded all incoming flights - a safe haven for those who could make it there, although many lost their lives trekking through the cold snow to get there.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Wednesday, January 28th, 2004

When Wolfram & Hart's security team called for a total lockdown, they didn't screw around. Heavy metal blast doors, reinforced with some kind of unidentifiable metals and inscribed with strength and protection runes, were scrolling downward, heavy plate after heavy plate, from the stone facing that had artfully concealed them along the office building's outer walls. Angel stood in the front lobby, arms crossed as the necro-filtered sunlight slowly disappeared from the first floor. He stayed well out of the way as team after team of security personnel removed floor tiles to reveal sturdy locking mechanisms a good two feet below the sidewalk's surface. It would take something rather large and determined, or numerous and determined, to get through such a barrier.

Unfortunately, it sounded like the firm's fortifications were going to be put to that very test, and soon.

Considering the impressive protocols set in place when the law firm really went to DEFCON 5, Angel felt more than a little chagrined. He was starting to get the impression that all of his clever breaking and entering in years past hadn't been contested further because the senior partners hadn't been all that concerned. Now there was a dark thought to ponder when he needed a mental vacation from the situation that was unfolding around them.

"Roughly 63.8 percent of the employees are staying, which is a significantly larger number than we were expecting." Fred was standing on the vampire's right, rattling through the state of their preparations. He half kept an ear open, filing away what seemed most important for future reference. "Also, many of them brought families, but even though it's going to be a little tight, I think we can handle them all."

Angel grunted, which was his less than verbose way of letting her know that he was listening. He wasn't surprised that so many had remained, not when Wolfram & Hart had long been the center of mystical power in the greater Los Angeles area.

Fred just adjusted her glasses and peered down at her clipboard again. "Right now it's looking like 323 humans, 62 of which are minors. The remaining 112 are demons of one kind or another, some of which would be their species' equivalent of children, but the biology is a little iffy. Call it 24 non-human minors. Of the rest, ten are carnivorous with a tendency to seek out human or humanoid prey, including three vampires: Harmony, Walsh from accounting, and his childe…or is it his mate? Anyway, her name is Rita and Gunn says that she counts as a spouse/dependant according to company policy. We've got them checking in with the blood culturists, as per the policy. Rita was borderline, but they're all technically clean."

Vampires. They were giving sanctuary to vampires. Well, there was a first time for everything. "What's the condition of our blood stores?" he asked, knowing that things would get interesting if and when they ran out of easy, free blood.

"Since there's only the five of you, we should be fine for at least a few months. Exertion and injuries translate into greater appetites, so I can't give you a more precise estimate, but that's without any resupply through our dimensional contacts. We've already recalled the two smallest helicopters from the airport, maintenance swears the roof can support them without any structural damage, and they can be stocked for rescue and foraging missions. Then again, if things get really bad, we could put together a volunteer donor program among the employees…"

Angel's dark glower cut that line of reasoning short. Drinking bagged human blood, anonymous and aged, was one thing. Getting it any closer to the tap was a huge temptation for any vampire, even those of the souled sort. They were already going to have to keep an eye on Harmony and the others, and he didn't want to rock the boat.

Fred continued, blithely unaware of or graciously ignoring Angel's dour expression. "Regular old human variety food is going to be more of an issue. Knox had this great idea to change over the old Burials and Acquisitions storage areas into hydroponics labs, since they're empty and all. I've got him setting up some of the more exotic, fast growing stuff right now. None of it's Terrestrial in origin, not with yield rates like that, but it's biologically compatible for humans and most of the demon species here, and the D'loryn fruit clusters are kind of tasty." She met his dubious expression with a bright smile.

That melted a little of the coldness around Angel's heart, as it always had. "Good job, Fred. Keep it up." He tried to smile back, but the expression felt stiff and faltered completely when another loud crash, followed by the clanking of locking mechanisms, heralded another barricaded panel sliding into place between the building's stone columns.

Fred just nodded and bustled off to the closest elevator. Angel watched her go, wondering if he should join Wesley and Gunn, who were surveying the work to block off the firm's lower levels. Within the next hour, Wolfram & Hart would be encased in a metal wall two stories high and supported by the most powerful magic the blood of the innocent could buy.

So far, the security teams had managed to dispose of the few zombies that had made their way to the firm's front steps with impressive efficiency, but as another sheet of metal armor slammed home, Angel couldn't honestly say if being locked in this place, protected from the growing numbers of the undead, was better or worse than going it alone in the deserted streets on the outside.

Death in body or death in soul: it was a devil's choice. What remained to be seen was if the armored walls of Wolfram & Hart would be their life raft in a sea of the living dead, or their tomb.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oz raised a single eyebrow. “So…zombies?”

Clem nodded and pulled out a tattered and dog-eared book: The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead. “Everything you need to know is contained in this book! I thought it was all just a really cool story, but after watching Day of the Dead with Spike and Dawn, I got a bit worried. After all, vampires and werewolves were supposed to be myths, and we were living on the mouth of hell, so I ordered this book from eBay, a Smith & Wesson Disaster-Ready Kit, and as soon as I saw the L.A. riots on television, I went into hiding.”

“Why a bat then?”

Clem looked abashed. “Well, I never got around to learning how to fire the gun, and now it’s a bit late to learn. After all, I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Plus, Max Brooks rule number 4 is ‘Blades don’t need reloading.’ Of course, I haven’t actually found a sword yet, but the bat sure is nifty. If you want to use the gun you can, but you have to check out all the neat accessories that came with it first!”

Clem pulled out the kit from under the couch and started to show it off. “I just love the space blankets and water purification tablets. The radio is awesome, too. However, the rations won’t last long, so we need to stock up on more supplies. I managed to download an advance copy of Dawn of the Dead - for research of course – and was horrified. Could you imagine surviving the initial outbreak just to starve to death? The pet stores have already been raided by other demons, but the grocery stores are still mostly unaffected.”

Clem settled down on the slightly ratty couch and began to draw a list of items they should acquire from the nearby shopping center.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Spike had cajoled, brow beat, and dog-cursed Angel until the prancing nit had given another of the guest suites to Dawn. Cots lining the lobby might be acceptable for Joe Accountant, but the blond vampire would rot in hell before he let his Bit be subjected to that kind of arrangement if it could be helped. No, she was getting her own bed, her own bathroom, and a TV for as long as the signal lasted.

Dawn had agreed to the arrangement, after she had cajoled, brow beat, and dog-cursed Spike into staying on the couch in the living room.

He had folded relatively quickly after that, but once she had arranged her meagre possessions around the tiny apartment, she skipped off to watch Wolfram & Hart's security teams wall them into the building.

While he wasn't really one for wanderlust, Spike placed a high premium on his freedom, so being walled into Fort Angel was not his idea of a good time. Spike had been nailed into a coffin once before, and he had little interest in experiencing the phenomenon again.

He was eat up with boredom, twitchy from the knowledge of what was going on a few floors below, so it wasn't much of a surprise when he found himself in front of his new neighbor's door.

Scowling to himself and making a quick decision, Spike raised his hand and knocked on the door with a little more force than was necessary. The wood panelling splintered a little under his fist, going far to bleed off much of his ire.

He didn't have long to wait: the door swung inwards, revealing the rumpled form of his possible benefactor.

"Hey 'Doyle,'" he emphasized the name, watching with interest as the man's eyed glassed into the carefully blank expression of an experienced dissembler. How Spike had missed that before testified to his distraction over the last few weeks. "Gonna invite a vamp in for a cuppa?" His words were innocuous, but his tone was not. Little sparks of gold were flashing in his eyes.

"And if I don't," Lindsey asked in a carefully neutral voice.

"Then I kick your door in and stand out here with a CD player and every piece of pop shite I can find in the Nibblet's luggage," Spike replied in an equally bland tone of voice.

That earned a wry smile from the tattooed Texan. He stepped out of the doorway, pulling the door wide. "I guess there are fates worse than death. Come on in, Spike."

The vampire swept into the front room, noticing briefly that the layout of the apartment was exactly the same as his and Dawn's new digs. He made for the room's sister couch and threw himself on the piece of furniture.

Lindsey followed more slowly. To an unsuspecting eye, he looked totally at ease, but Spike was onto him now. There was a tension humming beneath the man's tattooed skin.

"Got any beer in this piss hole?" the vampire asked abruptly.

There was a flicker of surprise in the man's eyes, but he wordlessly went into the tiny kitchenette and pulled two bottles out of the refrigerator. One he placed on the coffee table in front of the vampire, the other he kept for himself as he sprawled into one of the over-stuffed pieces of corporate furniture lining the room.

Spike twisted the cap free and rolled it through his fingers, feeling the rough edges against his calluses. Letting Lindsey simmer in his own juices a little while longer, he looked around the room. The same boring corporate art, the same beige carpet and earth toned furniture. Everything looked exactly the same as the set up in Dawn's room, well, except for the piece of lacy black silk that was barely visible from under the end table.

Lucky bastard.

Spike took a long swig of his beer, returning his attention to the man. The expression on his face must have let a little too much slip, because even though Lindsey's face remained passive, his heart rate skipped and took off.

That was fine. Spike wasn't in the mood for dancing around the point any longer anyway.

"Told you once I don't react to well to being played," he said matter-of-factly. "And yet, here we are." Spike took another drag from his beer, half-lidded eyes still scrutinizing Lindsey. "So, here's how it's gonna be. You tell me what the fuck is goin' on and I'll decide whether or not to garrotte you with your girlfriend’s knickers over there." He pointed with his bottle to the black, frilly thing on the floor.

Lindsey quirked the tiniest smirk at that, an expression that didn't do much for Spike's temper, but did impress the vampire with the man's nerve. "Ever read the Shanshu Prophesy, Spike?" he said after mulling over a sip of his own beer. At Spike's dark scowl, he continued, "Right, stupid question. Well, I'm not too fond of the horse the Senior Partners are backing."

"Got that part already, and not that I can't respect a little hatred directed the Poof's way, but I'm wantin' details." Spike dropped his heels on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch, making it perfectly clear that he wasn't leaving until he was satisfied.

"You want details? Short story is that I used to work here, and Angel was something of an… undead thorn in the Partners' side. I was assigned the case, worked my ass off, and ended up getting my hand cut off for my troubles." Lindsey raised the hand in question and flexed it in partial answer to Spike's unspoken question. "This? Ain't mine. The firm took a bit longer to reattach mine than they did yours, and it had a slight possession issue."

Spike's wrists were itching. They tended to do that anymore whenever someone reminded him of the Dana debacle. Fred called it a psychosomatic response to remembered trauma on par with ghost limb syndrome. At that point, Spike recognized it for empathy. "And?" he prompted, the threat in his voice dwindling.

"And I blew town," Lindsey said, bitterness colouring his tone. "Needed to get my head clear, away from the firm and their pet projects. Got some new tricks along the way," he rubbed one of the tattoos winding around his forearm, "But I'll be damned if the firm hands the keys to the kingdom over to that piece of Eurotrash after what they put me through to get rid of him. Simple fact is that the prophesy doesn't actually name Angel, and you were the best opportunity to screw over the firm and its pet vamp in one move. That enough honesty for you?"

Spike wasn't moving, was simply glaring at the former lawyer through slitted eyes. He didn't know what to think about Lindsey's words. Oh, the little reveal there had held a ring of truth, but only an idiot would think that the man wasn't holding something back. Spike was many things: rash, temperamental and prone to going off half-cocked, but not an idiot. "The spell that made me solid?" he asked.

"Sirk, under my pay," Lindsey answered smoothly, tipping his bottle back again.

"The amulet?"

"Touche. No idea, you caught me."

Lie number one. "The visions."

"Getting into some gray area there. The headaches were fake, but I can scry and there's always other, more mundane methods for surveillance, so those were real." Another lazy smile, slow and ironic. "For the most part."

Spike glared. The parasite on Angel's chest came to mind… and Dana…

Lindsey dropped his bottle, now nearly half-empty, on the coffee table next to Spike's feet and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Okay, yeah, so you got burned on some of those, but before you go for the thongs, think on this. The chaos before the Cup of Perpetual Torment?"

"The fake cup. The cup of piss flavored caffeine?"" Spike snapped, kicking the bottle away to crash against the wall. In a move too fast for human eyes to track easily, he was suddenly in Lindsey's face, eyes yellow and fangs barred. "You mean that cup?" he hissed.

Spike had to give it to the lawyer, he didn't back down. "Cup was fake, chaos wasn't."

The vampire's hands itched to wrap around the man's throat, but for once, he restrained himself. "And if I don't believe you?"

Lindsey laughed outright at that. "A little scrying, a little extra strength on the side, yeah, I can do that. But I don't have the kind of power to throw an entire dimension out of whack."

Logic. Confounded by simple logic. Spike snarled again, but sank back into the couch, demonic visage still at the fore.

"So, now you know," Lindsey said with false blandness again. He had all the hallmarks of a man who was rolling the dice. "The question is; what're you going to do about it?"

What, indeed?

Spike had been played, danced on the end of marionette strings to put him in the running for the Shanshu. A bid that seemed to be working. The man's motivations hadn't been sterling, but Spike had exactly no right to cast stones in that department. And the people he had saved, the good he had done…well, that had been real. Probably the most real thing Spike had done in a very, very long time.

Lindsey was not one of the good guys. The rub was that he wasn't really one of the bad guys either. True neutral, that one. But he also had the ability and intellect to get things done, and they were going to need that in spades very soon.

Too many 'buts.'

"Keep the knickers. Can always find more later." Spike swallowed the last of the beer in one long draught. The empty bottle took the place of the one he had shattered across the wall, leaving a wet stain on the institutional off-white. "You've got grievances, I get that, but if I ever even think that you're jerking my chain again, I'll make whatever you and Angel had look like flirting."

But, but, but…

"But if you can play nice with the other kiddies, I'm willing to let this slide. Hell, might even trade you a drink or two for any stories you've got squirreled away about Angel looking like a git." There, that was a compromise that his half-tamed demon and his still-stinging soul could both live with. He shook off his vampiric visage and looked at the former lawyer with piercing blue eyes instead.

The flash of relief on Lindsey's face was quickly covered by a mask of smooth confidence. "Truce it is," he said.

"Truce." Spike glanced over at the refrigerator. "Well?" he asked, humor tingeing the question.

"Well, what?" The caution was back in Lindsey's voice.

"Well give me a beer and tell me about making Angelus' life a living hell."

Relief again. How in hell had Spike missed the subtle hints that what was going on in Lindsey's head and what was coming out of his mouth didn't quite match? "Thought you said you'd be the one providing the drinks," the man replied wryly.

"Semantics. As a lawyer, I'd've figured you'd be used to that."

Okay, there was an honest laugh. It was shaping up to be a beautiful cessation of hostilities.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Buffy stared at the office building. It certainly seemed like Angel and company had moved up in the world… and it also appeared that they didn’t want any company. Seriously, several thousand or so zombies roam the streets and they just have to go and barricade themselves into a law office.

It would be comical except her sister and her… Well she wasn’t sure what Spike was to her yet. She’d told him that she loved him. She’d meant it. Really! But the knowledge that he had returned from the grave – that Andrew knew, that Dawn knew—heck that an entire squadron of Slayers knew!—and yet no one, including the vampire himself, had wanted to tell her. It hurt more then words could say, but again, there would be time for that later.

As always, she would be the strong one. She had to be. And right now – there was a barricaded building between her and her sister. That just couldn’t be.

‘And this year’s apocalypse is almost five months early! That is so unfair!’

TBC…