Author's Note: In honor of the fact that I have now finished Cabin Pressure, I decided to (try to) WRITE FANFICTION FOR IT :D Now, I know I'm no John Finnemore- but BEAR WITH ME~ aaanyway, I got this idea from the tumblr user kogla- she makes Martin Crieff zombie apocalypse art- and I loved the idea SO MUCH! Thanks, Kogla! Hope you guys like this! XD
(P.S- This fic is also on Archive of Our Own! To find it, just search it- my username is RL_BlackRose

Chapter One

It was an especially long flight, from England to California and onto some godforsaken island in the middle of the Pacific.

Needless to say, Arthur was being annoying.

He peeked into the flight deck. "So, what's in the box?"

"Can you go away?" Martin sighed, weary. "Please?"

Douglas turned. "Arthur, how many times have you asked that now?"

"I don't know! I know that it's more than once, since you just asked me how many times I've said it and I-"

"This is the thirteenth time you've asked, and each time we confirmed that we don't know." Douglas said, "And, as my good friend Einstein used to say, 'Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.'"

Arthur gasped. "You were friends with Albert Einstein? Wow!"

Martin's fists clenched.. "Arthur-!"

"Boys?" Carolyn walked up, behind Arthur. "Sorry to interrupt your fascinating conversation- but how far are we from California, now?"

"Uhhhh…" Martin eyed the controls. "We're-"

"-3 hours and 45 minutes away from Los Angeles, exactly." Douglas finished, smug.

"Douglas!" Martin complained, turning to him. "Would it kill you to stop interrupting me?"

"I'm not sure." Douglas mused, tilting his head. "If I had to guess- yes, probably."

"Well- well, not if I kill you first!" Martin yelled, grabbing for his throat-

"Boys, you're flying a PLANE!" Carolyn yelled. "Boys-!"

Arthur's eyes lit up. "Hey, I just remembered something! Did you know that the only dog that doesn't have a pink tongue is the-"

But they never did hear about dogs, or manage to kill each other, for that matter, because at that very moment the Sat-com crackled on.

"Golf-Tango-India, can you hear me? Hello? Hello?"

They all froze. Why were they being called? They were hours away from their destination…

Martin released Douglas and grabbed the microphone. "Yes, hello? I think you've called the wrong plane, because-"

"Get out of the sky." The person on the other end seemed out of breath. "Get out of the sky, NOW!"

Douglas snatched the microphone, and Martin seethed. "What do you mean, 'get out of the sky'? Why?"

"The air force is coming through!" he shouted. "They'll shoot anything still flying! Land while you still can!"

"What's going on?" Douglas urged. Martin and Carolyn had frozen in shock, or fear, or both, while Arthur just stood there, looking confused. "Why is the air force coming through?"

A splintering noise was heard, in the backround of the microphone. "Ohhh, they're coming, they're coming." A pause, as he gasped for breath. "Land wherever you can. It's all over. Save yourselves. Don't let them bite you. Listen- I've been contacted, about the package you're carrying. You can end this. Now, listen carefully; this is what you have to-" A loud noise sounded in the background. "Ah- AAAAAAAAaaahh-!"

Silence.

"Hello?" Douglas said, a dread settling in the pit of his stomach. "Hello? Are you there?"

Martin held his head in desperation. "What do we do?" he whined. "What's in the package? What's happening, what do we have to do, I didn't ask for this!-"

Carolyn's brow furrowed. "What's going to bite us? Is it some sort of black plague?"

Douglas was silent.

"I don't know." He said finally. "But may I suggest that we start by landing?"

"But that's against the rules, landing without instructions from a tower!" Martin huffed. "We'll just have to keep going, so-"

Douglas rolled his eyes. "Martin, do you really think this is a time for rules?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Carolyn looked around, confused. "Where are all the planes? And the people?"

Where they had landed, the runway was empty. Not a sound was heard.

"How is this happening?" Martin checked the GPS. "We're in Missouri, and no planes?"

"Now can I ask what's in the box?" Arthur begged.

"You know what, Arthur?" Douglas said. "I think that's a very good idea. Carolyn, where's the box?"

"Right here." Carolyn brought it forward. She set it on the floor, and they all sat down around it.

"All right." Douglas reached for the lid. "Now, I'll-"

"No, I can do it." Martin said crossly, pushing Douglas' hand away. He grabbed the top of the box and pulled-

As soon as the lid came off, Arthur leaned forward. "Let me see let me see let me-!"

Then, he stopped.

"That's it?" Carolyn sounded disappointed as she pulled the binder out, opening it. She flipped through. "What is this?"

The paper was covered in complicated-looking equations, strange diagrams, and perhaps strangest of all, two pictures of two different chickens. In the first one, they were sitting side-by-side in different cages, both healthy. In the second one, one of them looked healthy, but the other looked rotten and its feathers had all fallen out.

"Oh, that's disgusting!" Arthur grabbed the picture. "Why would they send a picture of a dead chicken? Did they kill the chicken? Why would they do something like that to the poor thing?"

Martin looked out the window, and his eyes grew wide. "Guys?"

"What is all this gibberish?" Douglas muttered, flipping through the pages. "It looks like some sort of complicated formula-"

"Guuuuys?" Martin said, turning back to them, and to the window again, "Hey!"

"How can we do anything with this?" Carolyn said. "We're not chemists, and-!"

"Guys, PLEASE- listen to me!" Martin yelled. "I see people!"

Everyone was quiet.

Douglas stared at him for a second, then got up and went over to the window. "Are you sure? Where-" But then he stopped, because he saw them too.

There must have been hundreds of them, walking slowly towards the plane. No, walking was the wrong word- ambling or stumbling best described their gait.

"Something's wrong." Carolyn said. "Something's gone horribly wrong."

"No, it hasn't!" Arthur opened the door of the plane. "Now we can ask what's going on! Guys-!" Suddenly, he wrinkled his nose and winced. "What is that?"

Douglas suddenly realized something was very wrong. His eyes narrowed. He spoke slowly. "What's... that... sound?"

"They're groaning." Martin said softly, eyes fixed on the people- no, not people. Now that they were closer, he could see that they might have been people before- but not anymore. Now they were mottled and broken, dragging their rotting bodies behind them.

At once, fear registered on Arthur's face. "Zombies!" He yelped, slamming the door shut and backing away. "They're zombies! It's the zombie apocalypse!"

"That's ridiculous!" Carolyn shouted. "There's no such thing-"

"Carolyn, look out the window." Douglas took her by the arm, an urgent tone in his voice. "If you tell me that those are anything but zombies…"

"Oh, so now you've gone insane too?" Carolyn shook her head. "I understand Arthur, but you-?"

"Don't let them bite you." Martin groaned. "That's what he said! Don't let them bite you!"

"Well, maybe it's a prank!" She shrugged, desparate.

"Seems like an awfully complicated prank to me." Douglas said. "In any case, we've got to run. Now."

"Run where?" Martin's voice was panicked, and he hugged his arms. "Into the forest? If they're zombies, they'll be everywhere!"

"Doesn't matter!" Douglas could hear the zombie's moans through the walls of the plane, now. "All we know is that they're not friendly, and we've got to go!" He practically ripped the door open, and grabbed the binder. "Now, RUN!"

The racket from outside grew louder, and Martin had to shout to be heard. "I THINK YOU'RE FORGETTING THE TINY DETAIL OF 'THERE'S NO BLOODY LADDER!'"

"That's what this is for!" Douglas pulled down a lever. The emergency slide inflated with a bang.

Arthur clapped his hands together. "Wow, I've always wanted to try this!" This is brilliant!"

"Not the time, Arthur!" Carolyn said, getting on and sliding down. Arthur went down after, sticking his hands in the air and laughing. Martin and Douglas followed.

It was summer, so the tarmac was hot, so hot that waves rose from it. The sound of zombies was deafening now, so they turned and ran under the plane, away, and into the forest that awaited them.