The Doctor pushed Marie away from him and into the brush at the edge of the little glade. He listened to her moving away softly through the tangle of briars and bushes, as he grimly eyed the trio slowly walking forward. When they turned in the direction of Marie, the Doctor’s face assumed a jovial expression. “Ah! I see you’re interested in the local flora.” He chortled. Moving to block their way, he pretended to be fascinated by the bushes. “That’s diervilla lonicera–common honeysuckle, to most of you.” He cautiously eyed the three walking corpses. “Don’t ask me how I know that–because I haven’t the slightest clue. Still, being that you all live–or should I say had lived–around here, I suppose you’d know that. “And those”, he pointed to some tough thorny brush, “are blackberries. Nasty things to tangle with, full of thorns, you know.” His words had no affect. The corpses–or whatever they were, continued purposefully walking towards the Doctor, arms outstretched.

The Doctor continued babbling at them, seemingly unconcerned…but he was quite worried. How do you defeat someone who, for all intents and purposes, is already dead? “And that other bush there, those are blueberries,” he addressed the young hunter, who was nearest him, “I’ll just bet you love those on your hotcakes, big strapping young feller like you.” His senses told him that Marie was well away, and the Doctor decided that now would be a good time to make his own exit.

He turned on his heels to flee, and crashed right into the arms of yet another of the zombies. This one was dressed like a logger and had the physique to match. He held the Doctor in a vise-like grip. The Doctor struggled, but to no avail. Slowly, inexorably, he felt both his strength and his breath being squeezed from him. The trio that had followed him from the barn turned into the brush, apparently intent on finding Marie. “No!” He gasped. “Leave her alone!” Those were the last words he said, as his vision slowly faded and his hearts slowed their beating.