Author's Note: Hello, thank you for trying out this story. I felt like writing a psychological story that is hopefully intense, depressing, realistic (even if its about zombies) but the realism will be focused on emotions. Its based on the song Conversations 16 by The National. Because I love it in its addictive way. More chapters to come. Reviews are appreciated. And also I love the story Better Run, Outrun my gun by . Thank you to the author for writing such a brilliant story.

24 Hours Ago:

"This is like the finale of Buffy when they all dogpile into the bus and get the hell out of there," Santana said robotically but somehow managed to sound awed at the same time. It only added to how bizarre it was. Santana Lopez sounding aloof was not something Rachel Berry expected to witness. But anything was liable to happen when faced with a zombie attack-right? All logic and expectations fly out the window that make the cliche of flower pots or pianos falling child's play.

How they had come to this no one knew. Their small, misfit group were rehearsing then Rachel's phone rang and a professional sounding man she called dad gave her specific instructions, which she factually expressed to her peers. They had to reach her grandfather's lack house since her fathers were in the bunker in their suburban home-the panic room. She refused to call it a panic room because she wanted to avoid panic and it frankly did the exact opposite whenever they did drills together. It had seemed like imagination time and loved that her fathers were spending time with her and actively engaged, but it wasn't until years later that it was training, at an unaware level.

But here they were with Quinn raising her eyebrows at Santana while the Lady Macbethian cheerleader replied, "What Blondie? The show was about a badass chick and Faith was my girl."

The singer wanted to argue that Faith was two dimensional and god she would have willingly accepted the debate but she was a little occupied creating a plan-sliding into the leader role without anyone having the faintest idea how their dynamics were really shifting.

"What's going on?" Finn asked, confused, and although Rachel could tell he was in shock she wanted him to not be so dense, as cruel as she felt that was to think. At this point it was life or death and she didn't want to seem Darwinian but she couldn't take five minutes and explain everything to him.

"Finnocence, get with the program. Don't you play a bunch of video games?" Santana cut in smoothly, words as always like a knife as her patience was clearly growing thin, the little she had for Finn was being pushed to its limit. For a second Rachel hoped that the former cheerios captain would be good with a blade, it would be too fitting and maybe almost poetic in a disturbing kind of way.

"Yeah, but they don't prepare us for a zombie apocolypse," Sam interjected, arms at his side, appearing calm as usual. "No matter how epic Emma Stone is," he added as an afterthought which got Rachel thinking-would Emma Stone survive the undead, she liked her as an actress...

She shook her head. "Stop. In a nutshell the undead are slowly taking over. No one knows how fast the plague is progressing. We need to move," she said in a clear manner as she enunciated everything to avoid repeating.

"Can't we go to our lockers and get stuff?" The quarterback asked and Rachel hummed for a moment to collect herself. As an excuse for Finn's lack of intelligence she questioned if he'd ever had any concussions from his sporting activities, but she needed to hum. Music was her cure.

"If its of dire need such as a cell phone fine, but we'll all go together. There's security in numbers," the short brunette replied as loud, disruptive banging started again in the hallway. Everyone grew tense at that. Tina flinched, Mike stepped closer to her, Rachel assumed with the intent to protect his girlfriend, Kurt and Mercedes held hands as the R&B singer's eyes were clenched tight and seemed to be praying. Puck had his arms crossed over her chest, looking a little intimidating. Finn was whispering to his father figure, Mr. Shue, Sam was clenching the handles of Artie's wheelchair tightly to the point that his knuckles were ghost white while Artie seemed like he was calculating statistics of survival. Santana was doing an impressive job covering up any fear as Brittany held her hand and for a moment Rachel missed their pinky likage. It was so simple and innocent, but it only proved that reality wasn't innocent at all anymore.

Links would have to be strong, unwavering and firm in their convictions. And finally her eyes rested on Quinn who seemed in her own world, cut off from everyone as her jaw clenched, eyes narrowed with squared shoulders. The glee captain considered the former cheerleader's dance classes and natural grace lended her the fierce look but she also saw something shift in Quinn. She caught her breath from having been thrown. It was shock that Quinn exuded this air of-I've been through x,y, z in life, I will get through this. The certainty, whether Quinn knew she was protecting that vibe or not was powerful and Rachel stared at her a little longer until she felt the image was memorized.

"I think my locker is first," Brittany said almost in a whisper, but managed to break Rachel from her thoughts, "but I forgot the combination." Immediately Santana moved even closer and squeezed her hand. Rachel watched and very briefly glanced at Quinn who had tilted her head and gave the smallest smile she had ever seen even as hazel eyes seemed distant. It was intriguing how one of her bullies seemed to convey she'd nonverbally take care of the blonde dancer.

"Rachel...how do you...how do you know what to do here," Will asked, baffled and clearly a little scared of Rachel. If he didn't think she was intense and driven before this was another story.

"My fathers and I treated The Walking Dead and the classics like research for a few years now." She offered without any defensive tone.

"Bat shit crazy," the Latina mumbled.

"Like it or not her crazy is the only thing that may save our lives," Quinn said back without any pause.

"Sometimes crazy is good," Tina offered kindly, always one for dreaming, regardless of the impression her usual attire implied.

"Do you think bears like in the zoos with become zombies? That's something I don't want to face." Finn added causing Tina to immediately frown and Mike to slowly shake his head and look back to his girlfriend.

"I stand corrected," Tina said with furrowed eyebrows.

"Regardless of my preparation I doubt any of you own the Zombie Survival Guide or have read Pride, Prejudice and Zombies." Rachel voiced, trying to get them back on track which wasn't hard considering everyone was ignoring Finn's comment.

"Q has," Santana said with a shrug and received a glare from the former head cheerleader. "What? Its on your bookshelf."

"Whatever, I like Jane Austen," the blonde said flippantly to avoid sounding defensive. "But way to assume Berry," she said with a bite that made Rachel want to sigh. They were always vitrolic and tense with one another but it was ridiculously counter-productive at this point. Quinn was always pointing out her flaws, why would this setting be any different? High school was war-wasn't it? Just on a small scale. What did it matter that the stakes were raised to life or death?

"Soooo cell phones..."Artie trailed off, trying to get them back to more important needs.

"Let's go." Rachel said with command, already leading the way, and a small part of her was amazed everyone was following her. She felt like a little general. The unexpected feeling of pride hit her, then the intense wave of responsibility resting on her. Could she do this? Was this asking for too much? It was only drills with her fathers, they were never in real danger in her house as they role played and promoted a healthy imagination in the process. She planned to take Broadway by storm, she could do this. Right. She nodded to herself. Right?