Two Days In:
House frowned over his swarm of ideas and lack of answers. Green ooze leaked from the dead woman on the autopsy table. Security had shot her in the head when she tried to gnaw on them.
Her blue veins were exposed through translucent skin, worse than the computer geek he'd treated for carpel tunnel last week. Of course, last week, the world was intact and carpel tunnel was considerably more treatable than reanimation.
Cuddy had ordered security posted at every entrance; the morgue in complete quarantine; and all her doctors on call, even the ones who'd already been working the night shift. House had made jokes about Chase's bedroom eyes being red and puffy from lack of sleep.
When he saw Wilson's patient, dead of lung cancer, make a full recovery, the wrong kind of recovery, House had considered reading Revelation. Especially when it turned out the lung cancer zombie wasn't the only one rising from her grave.
Cameron looked away as Chase cut into the body.
Two Hours Later:
"That was a truly horrifying and gross experience," Chase said as they all sat down to eat lunch in the cafeteria.
House looked around at the nearly empty room. Cuddy wouldn't let any of her doctors and nurses leave, but many had run home to their families anyway. His team didn't have families, and they'd set up camp in the hospital. As long as camp didn't include learning to kayak or running in three-legged relay races, House was fine.
"The way her insides were just..." Cameron shivered and picked at the white bread of her ham sandwich.
Foreman shook his head and reached for a tiny packet of mustard. "Ham, again?"
"You're just lucky that the refrigerators haven't gone out," House said. He too was getting sick of the hospital's endless supply of pig. Someone was bound to get a tape worm. "Of course, if you find this meal unsatisfactory, you could go across the street to the 7-11."
Foreman slapped the two pieces of bread back together. "Not going to happen. I've seen horror movies before. I know who dies after the slutty blonde."
House watched as Cameron and Foreman tried not to look at Chase. "Usually, said slutty blondes are female, not male."
45 Minutes Later:
House made his way to Wilson's office. It was a good thing that while Wilson had family, kind of, Wilson's loyalty laid other places besides his wife.
A young woman ran out of what used to be Stacey's office and bumped into him. Her files fell to the floor. "Why don't you look where you're going?" she snapped and bent down to pick them up. House recognized the green pendant hanging from her neck. Stacy's replacement, Anya Jenkins. Instead of her usually form-fitting suit, she wore green hospital scrubs like over half those who stayed.
"Sorry." House waved his cane. "Cripple."
"I should've figured it was you. Only you would crash into someone and then expect me to apologize just because you have a bum leg," Anya said. House figured that the worst thing about hospital lawyers, besides being lawyers, was that they knew all his dirty little secrets and it was their job not to let him get away with murder.
House rolled his eyes and watched as Anya huffed away. She really hated him. No, come to think of it, she really hated men. Even Wilson and his ever roaming eyes had the sense to stay away from her.
Wilson looked up from his desk when House came in, but continued to roll a golf ball over what seemed to be a maze of paperclips. "What took you so long?"
"I ran into our favorite lawyer," House said. He propped his cane against Wilson's desk and sat down in his always comfortable for patient's chair. Maybe the chairs made them hug and thank Wilson.
Wilson nodded. "A ray of sunshine as always?"
"She accosted me and then accused me of using my disability as an excuse to trip her." House tilted his head to the side and tapped his fingers on Wilson's desk. The paperclips rattled.
"I'm sure you did nothing to provoke it." Wilson looked up. "Don't even try your innocent face. I once heard a nun call you a cunt rag."
"Actually, it was a doodiehead. And you've been spending more time with your TiVo than me. I hurt." House pouted and placed his hand over his heart.
The Next Morning:
House squinted. His head felt stuffy, and he wiped the drool from his chin. Someone had opened the curtains and the sun was currently in his face. Whoever did it was getting a cane to the face once his head cleared.
"We have another body," Cameron said. Her arms were crossed and she wasn't wearing a bra. This made House consider letting the lighting issue pass.
"And?" He groaned as he sat up.
Cameron sighed. "It looks like the others. Foreman and Chase are autopsying it."
"Did they draw the short straws?" House grabbed his cane and stood. He wasn't going to let them botch another autopsy, no matter how many corpses they claimed to have practiced on in medical school.
"No, I did. I had to wake you."
The walk from his office to the morgue took too long. The elevators weren't working as of midnight, and House's leg hurt. He popped a Vicodin and waited for Cameron to hold the door open for him.
"Has anyone yelled, 'Chase, don't be a hero, yet?'" House asked.
Foreman rolled his eyes, not even glancing up from his scalpel.
Six Hours Later
They hadn't learned anything. Not that House expected to find the cure for death... This year anyway.
Forman had labeled the reanimation zombification, and it was sticking. Now only if House could find out what was causing it.
30 Minutes Later
According to the news, the crisis was confined to Plainsboro. And the National Guard had been called in after the governor had declared New Jersey in a state of emergency. Ironically, the zombies were pretty easy to round up.
"They're certainly more cooperative than the average teenager," House pointed out to coma guy as he much on chips. Chips he'd stolen from Wilson's desk. "I have to admit, I'm kind of getting bored. I mean, whoohoo, never dying and looking like Keith Richard's body double."
"You should have more respect for the dead." Anya stood in the doorway.
"You know, you're kind of hot in that pissed off man-hating lesbian way." House turned off the TV. "And I like a challenge."
"So I've notice," Anya said, crossing her arms. Her eyes seemed to flash the same color as her pendant. "You do present something of a challenge for me."
"Lawyer school not as good as it should be?"
"You'd be surprised." Anya's face changed then. It became veiny, but not dead looking like the zombies, more like varicose veins. "I am growing tired of your boredom." Her voice had definitely deepened, a lot. "Vengeance will be served. You should learn to be nicer to women."
"I knew it," House said. He also knew better than to get close to her and kept inching toward the doorway. "Man-hating lesbian. Hey, I've always wondered about Cuddy..."
But Anya had backed him into a corner and she looked like she was going to finish the job that his 3 o'clock patient hadn't been able to do.
"Seriously," House said, "if you think I've been bad, you need to check Dr. Wilson's record. He's been through three wives. One of them has to hate him." House wasn't above begging for his own life; though he was kind of surprised just how quickly he'd sold Wilson out.
Turned out Anya didn't care about Wilson, but she did care about strangling House.
.5 Seconds Later
A blue man with horns appeared in a puff of smoke. House didn't think he was dead, just yet. "Anyanka," the blue man said, "as much as I'm enjoying your vengeance, I'm going to have to ask you to stop."
She dropped House like a stone to the floor. His legs went out from under him, which wasn't completely surprising. He heaved for breath. Maybe the blue guy came to punish Wilson instead.
"D'Hoffryn," Anya stepped toward him, "why have you interrupted me?"
D'Hoffryn rolled his eyes. "It seems that for months now I've been neglecting my recruiting duties. You know how the vengeance world is. We are all very busy and my assistant can't seem to keep anything in line." He shook his head and offered his hand to House, to help him off the floor.
House took it because hopefully by now Cuddy's rent-a-cops would be here and shooting these D&D rejects. An out of breath cripple wasn't going to get anywhere with a woman, who was way stronger than she looked, trying to kill him.
"Anyway," D'Hoffryn continued, "Gregory House, I have been meaning to pay you a visit. While usually, I only take on those with some familiarity with the dark arts, I've been enjoying your homemade, very MacGyver style of vengeance."
"You're recruiting my victim." Anya seemed a lot more pissed than she was moment ago. But D'Hoffryn sounded like upper management.
"Anyanka, I have little patience for your complaints. As funny as those zombies are, there are many men who deserve your wrath more than him."
"Fine." Anya snapped her fingers and disappeared.
House only felt a little more relieved, and then a little scared again, if this D'Hoffryn was Anya's boss. "So what are the perks? Of being part of your little club. Do I get veins or horns?"
"Veins. You also live forever -- granted, it's possible but hard, to be killed -- and you won't have to carry that cane." D'Hoffryn smiled. "What do you say?"
"If I say no, will Anya come back?"
"No. I'm sure she's busy with her next broken heart."
House considered life as a powerful being. Life forever. No patients or a hospital or clinic duty. Of course, there would be no stealing Wilson's fries or ogle Cuddy's boobs. On the other hand, he would be without pain and Vicodin. It was tempting. "I assume there's some sort of clause about my immortal soul."
"It will reside in Arashmahar."
"No thanks." House grabbed his cane. He'd seen more horror movies than Foreman gave him credit for and wasn't about to become some whiney, repenting ass like Dr. Faustus. "I'd rather take out vengeance in my own way. Even if it is a little 1985."
"Very well." D'Hoffryn sighed and left the room in another puff of smoke.
Happy Ending Later:
And just like that, life went back to normal. There were no zombies, just dead oozing bodies carted away by the CDC. Cuddy made them all sign confidentiality agreements, and the governor lifted the ban on New Jersey.
House, Wilson, Cameron, Foreman, and Chase got drunk on Jack Daniels in House's office, and House smacked Wilson's head when he started wondering just where Anya had gone.
"Probably back to hell," House said, taking another drink. He might not live forever, but he did figure out what, or who had caused the zombification.