"We've got to go," Sherlock told Amy. "We've got to get a barrier between them and us. And don't let them touch you."
"No, I'm not leaving Rory!" Amy argued, backing up all against the wall. Sherlock backed up, too.
"He'll be fine!" Sherlock argued back, though more monotone than Amy. "He's got a door, we don't!"
"Well-" Amy started, but she was suddenly cut off when the door across from them swung open. Rory's door.
At first, the two of them didn't do anything. Then Amy jumped forward, grabbed Sherlock and pulled him with her to Rory's cell, all the while avoiding the zombie things like a pro american football player. She didn't stop until they both were in the cell and she slammed the door shut. Or tried to any way. It caught on a zombie last second and stopped. Amy angrily slammed her body weight on top of it, making it suddenly shut with a clang. Then Amy backed up, satisfied.
Suddenly, she heard Sherlock behind her swear suddenly. She looked over at him, then at Rory. Her eyes widened in horror.
"No," she gasped. "No!"
Behind her and in front of Sherlock was Rory, but instead of looking like he usually did (scared or confused or both) he looked dead inside. He looked... exactly like the zombie things outside.
"Oh my god," Amy gasped, tearing up. "What are we going to do?"
She pressed her back on the door and slid down it to the floor. Her eyes were filled with despair as she looked at her former husband.
"He... he can't die," she sobbed. "Rory can't die."
"But," Sherlock interrupted. "He is. Come on, let's get him outside."
"No!" Amy yelled, getting up. "We are not putting him out there with them."
"You're sediment is going to get us killed," Sherlock hissed at her. "Look at him! He's already dead, there's nothing we can do!"
"But the Doctor will be able to!" Amy hissed back. "We aren't doing that, and that's finale!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes at her, but he relented. He could tell that she wasn't going to give in any time soon, so he decided that it'd be better to make a plan in the meantime. Their wasn't much else he could do anyway.
After a little while, he looked over at Amy, who was pacing along the sides of the cell. Every so often, they'd hear a bang coming from the door, reminding them that they still weren't alone. Rory kept following her around, like a duckling following his mother. Amy kept having to dodge his attempts to kill her, but continuously refused to throw Rory out, despite Sherlock's many warnings.
Sherlock was by the door, keeping tabs on the monsters outside. He was deep in thought, trying to figure out a plan with what little the group had. He didn't move, except for the times Amy came to close to him and he sent her an ugly look. She would always ignore him.
Eventually, after Sherlock practically memorized the wall in front of him and Amy pretty much wore a grove into the floor, Sherlock looked over to her and said : "Okay, I've got an idea."
Amy looked up at him and stopped her pacing. Rory didn't though, and, without thinking, she lightly pushed him away by his shirt. She immediately regretted it, though, and pulled her hand back quickly. Sherlock and Amy held their breath as they watched Rory fall to the ground. One with interest and the other with fear and horror.
Amy let out a sigh of relief as Rory got up, unharmed. Sherlock huffed in disappointment. Then Amy turned back to Sherlock.
"So, what's your plan?"