Day of the Dead {Star Trek Enterprise Fan Fiction}

Dear John or Chuck

"Halloween in Tijuana
Full moon in my eyes
I wonder how in the hell I got here
Without a disguise

Should I take this last step
Or turn myself around
Or follow my intuition into that border town"

Jimmy Buffet – Desperation Samba (Halloween in Tijuana)

=/\=

Tucker was dozing off a bit, despite the mayhem on screen and the oh so close presence of one Corporal Amanda Cole. He'd seen the film how many times? For some reason, it seemed to be dull to him. "You know," Doctor Phlox said, munching on popcorn, "this is a most interesting phenomenon."

"It's a pretty lousy picture," complained Cole. The doctor was sitting right behind her and offered her the bowl, which she politely declined.

"What I mean is, consider the Romulan War. Or even the Xindi War, or back to your Eugenics Wars, even. War has become a tad sterile. Perhaps it's a little bit easy. I've read some of your history."

"I wonder what would happen if war stopped being, you know, awful," Amanda said. "It is supposed to be stupid and brutal and savage. It's not supposed to be easy."

"Precisely," said the Denobulan. He looked around. "I apologize if our talking is detracting from anyone's enjoyment of the picture."

"Oh, don't worry," Chip said, "half the audience is gone and most of them weren't paying attention anyway. You were saying, Doc?"

"It's just that I was speculating about the role of the horror film or other forms of grotesque or painful art. Is it, perhaps, a substitute for the real feelings engendered during wartime?" asked Phlox.

"I dunno, Doc," Tucker said, yawning a little.

"You asked for this picture and you're bored by it?" Aidan asked. "That's kinda bad, don't ya think?"

"No problem," Tripp said, "I'm –"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as he suddenly vanished. "What the hell?" Chip exclaimed. "Did you all see what I just saw?"

"Yeah," Amanda said, "holy cow."

Aidan was already slapping a wall communicator. "Security!" he yelled, "We got a major league problem here!"

=/\=

Commander Charles Tucker didn't feel a thing. At one moment, he was sitting and talking to his friends as the film played in the background. In the next, he was lying face down on something. It was semi-soft and a bit uneven. He was a little warm. And there was an aroma. What was it, exactly? It was a bit foul.

"McBride!" someone yelled, and the aroma got stronger as he felt he was, maybe, awakening.

That's a strange name; Tucker thought to himself, my mother's maiden name is McBride.

"Get your keister up already!" The aroma got even stronger. Tucker cautiously opened one eye and saw the cause of the aroma. Some guy was waving a dirty old green sock in his face.

"What the hell?" he asked, sitting bolt upright.

There was laughter. "Sheesh, Florida, you were the one who asked for the wakeup call! Mister Soon-To-Be-PFC! Private First Class McBride! First class chump, he must mean." some other guy said.

Tripp realized he was outside, and on the ground. "Where, where am I?"

"McBride, that gag ain't funny no more. You are in freakin' Upper Bavaria, just like you were yesterday and the day before and all of April," explained the guy with the dirty sock, who then produced the other one and made a face at it in disgust.