Title: The zombie apocalypse
Pairing: Main-Blainchel.
Summary: Blainchel zombie apocalypse
AN: This is my first fanfiction so I hope you like it! Also Kurt never moved to Dalton because of the bullying, infact he knew Blaine through middle school and they are now bestfriends, but Blaine still went to Dalton and only transfered in his sophmore year. Quinn is still pregnant in this, but Finn still thinks it is his and Puck still loves Quinn. Tina never broke up with Artie for Mike and Brittany didn't reject Santana when she confessed her feelings. Enjoy!

If you were to ask Rachel Berry what she would be doing in the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse, her answer really shouldn't have been killing a bunch of zombies and saving a group of people's lives that she didn't really give a crap about.

The day it happened, she had been running late for school. Her alarm clock hadn't gone off that morning, but it hadn't bothered her. Sure, her fathers would be pissed at her again, but she didn't have the time nor patience to care. Rachel was a loner and the thought of sitting in her home room with a bunch of hormonal teenagers talking about their summer break made her feel sick to the stomach. It especially didn't help when you were the new girl and most everyone would be staring at you or asking questions, prying into parts of your life that you really didn't wish to share with a bunch of nosy strangers. At least in her lessons she could get lost in her work.

Rachel rolled over in bed, pushing the blanket from her face. Her father had just shouted for her to wake up. She couldn't find the energy she needed to get up; it just wasn't there. Starting a new school would be frightening to most, but Rachel didn't care; its not like she planned on talking to anyone. The only thing that would change was the scenery. She hadn't bothered to talk to anyone in her old school, why would she start now?

She sighed and climbed out of bed, feeling slightly dizzy as the blood rushed to her head. She glanced at her image in the mirror, taking in the tousled hair and the slight bags under her eyes. Another day, another school, she thought.

Ten minutes later she exited the bathroom, feeling slightly refreshed thought still not in better spirits. Something occurred to her then and she stopped in the middle of her room, listening. No sound came from downstairs. Normally she could hear the voices of her fathers as they sang along to the radio while making breakfast. It was a regular routine they had fallen into, a routine that Rachel had gotten used to. Something in her get didn't sit right, it churned and made her feel queasy. They wouldn't leave without telling her.

She waited another minute in the silence, hoping that her ears had deceived her, but there was still no sound. Broadening her shoulders, she grabbed her bat (just in case) and left her bedroom.

Creeping silently downstairs seemed impossible with every step that she took, the wooden staircase creaking under every footstep. The living room appeared normal, nothing was out of place; perfect, just like her fathers liked it. As she reached the bottom, she turned her head towards the kitchen entrance when a disturbing noise reached her ears. She gripped the bat tighter in her clenched firsts and moved slowly towards the entrance.

She screamed.

Her breath caught in her lungs and the beating of her heart, though wild with fear, seemed to stop. The world slowed, as though torturing her by letting her live through the nightmare slowly. Her father, Hiram, sat over her other fathers body. But it wasn't really her fathers. His eyes had turned milky, his features wild with flaking skin so bad that it seemed to crumble under touch. His nasty, sharp teeth bit in the flesh of her dead father. She could feel hot wet tears as they rushed down her cheeks. Her heart felt shattered into a million pieces, like nothing in the world would ever be able to fix it again.

Hiram had shifter off the floor. He had heard her scream. Before she could even collect herself, the former body of her father threw himself towards her, causing them both to crash to the ground. He moaned, like a wild boar, as he moved his head down to try and bite her neck. For being so fragile looking, he was rather strong.

A million different reasons ran through Rachel's head. She sobbed loudly, unashamed as the pushed his teeth back from her neck. She couldn't kill him, she wouldn't. He was her father! She gazed up at his face. No, she thought, this isn't my father. He was a man turned. He may have been the embodiment of what her father used to be, but it was no longer him. Something had took over him and it refused to let him go. I'll be doing him a favour, she told herself.

She used all of her force to push his body from her own. In a quick second she was up on her feet, and without giving herself time to talk herself out of it, she brought down her bat against his skull. Blood splattered out, all over the floor, across her legs. She couldn't hold it in. She threw up the contents of her stomach right next to his body. When it was all gone, she stood dry heaving as tears continued to fall. She was falling apart, she couldn't contain herself.

Moments passed, it could have been an hour for all she knew. Finally, she composed herself enough to pull herself from the ground. She looked into the kitchen. Her other father lay on the ground in a pool of his own expanding blood. She didn't need to check his pulse; he was dead.

A distant echo caught Rachel's attention. It was a voice.

She picked the bat up from the ground, careful not to touch any of the blood. The walked into the kitchen. On the table sat her fathers phone, headphones in, dangling over the edge. She move closer and with a shaking hand, picked up one of the ear buds and placed it into her ear. "-Scientists say it some kind of influenza. Its not air born nor water, but its passed through the blood stream as it enters your system. It completely shuts down the brain. Anyone coming into contact with the infected should be immediately quarantined. Anyone bitten should seek help at your nearest pharmacy, we don't know it there is a cure yet, but tests have shown that it only take one hour so the virus to completely take over your body. You are advised to stay inside of your homes. Board them up, stock up on supplies. Our services are doing all they can to contain this virus. It has been contained within the borders of Canada. Any survivors out there, we suggest you stay inside. Help will be on its way-" She didn't listen to much more. She couldn't. The bile was rising in her throat again.

What this really happening?

Something struck her. She slowly turned to her fathers body lying on the floor. He didn't move, he hadn't at all. But the man had said one hour; it had been almost an hour. Her breath came out in ragged little breaths as she fluttered her eyelashes to keep a fresh set of tears from flowing forth. She gripped her bat. Swallowing back her pain, she moved over to her father and brought down the bat. She had to be sure.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. She knelt to her knees next to his body, not caring that she was getting soaked in his blood. "I'm so sorry." Her fathers were gone and she couldn't do anything about it. Her whole life, everything she was, had fallen around her.

That's how it began. She still questioned herself as to why she didn't end it with them; that way she could be with her fathers, out of this misery. But something kept her going, she didn't know what that was...maybe determination, or just the fact that she was extremely stubborn. Whatever it was, she didn't care to find out.

She kept count. Only on her third day and she had managed to kill fifty-one of them. Yes, she counted them. She understood it was kind of morbid, but it kept her brain functioning, it allowed her to distract herself from painful memories.

There was no help that came. Nothing more on the news. She was completely alone, the world around her filled with nothing but static. But she held onto one thing: Canada. It was a long stretch, she knew, but having a goal gave her a purpose, something to focus on. As in the wise words of Alfred Adler: "We cannot think, feel, will, or act without the perception of some goal."

She had boarded up her windows and locked the gates that surrounded her house. Sometimes, she was grateful that her fathers had been private men. It was only a temporary situation, but she was planning bigger. She just needed to stay in town long enough to collect enough supplies that would keep her going on the road until she got to Canada.

Rachel had found through going out and looking for supplies, that zombies were relatively slow and easy to kill from a distance. Yes, she called them zombies. Although they hadn't given a proper name to the virus, by their behaviour it was enough to determine what they at least acted like. She'd seen enough zombies movies to make that connection.

When zombies were alone, she found it easier to kill them; they died on blunt impact to the brain. Collectively, however, they were like an inexorable force. Together with their combined strength, they could knock down wired fences or swarm you so there was no escape. But herd weren't a problem for her, because she generally tended to avoid them. If she seen them coming, she would either leave or set up from a distance to take them out. It was easier that way, especially since she was on her own.

To survive a zombie apocalypse you had to have a plan. You couldn't just walk into it blindly. Rachel had a plan. She wrote up the things she would need, since sleep hadn't came to her due to the moans of the dead coming from outside. She would need:

Shoes comfortable enough to run in. There was going to be a lot of cardio workout and good shoes were essential.

A baseball bat. It was handy for up close combat for a swift kill without needing to draw other undead attention.

Water. Running, climbing, jumping—she was going to be doing a lot of it. Not to mention it was essential for her survival as a human being.

Bandanna or scarf. Those things sure did smell. There's going to be about 1,530,000,000 pounds of rotting flesh around...its not going to be a good smell.

Thick clothing. She would be spending a lot of time outside on her travels to Canada.

Defensible place. It really wasn't a smart idea to head to the mall just because it was big; odds are, everybody is thinking the same thing as you.

Pistol. The back up for far away dead that you can't hit with a bat, e.g. herds.

First aid kit. Odds are she was going to get injured.

Radio. Someone might have news about the virus, or a safe place to go, and she would want to hear it.

Lighter. For cooking dinner out on the road and also helpful for setting fire to the undead.

A car. And a big one too, to get through the crowds of hungry zombies.

Flash-light. It was essential to see your enemies in the dark.

Canned food. It lasted longer and was easier to carry around.

Batteries. To back up the flash-light.

Ammo. And plenty of it. Odds are she wasn't going to be a perfect shot every time.

Map. She might hear of a safe place on the news and might not know what the hell the place is.

That was all she had managed to get down before sleep overcame her.

There had only been one or two occasions that she had seen any survivors after everything went bad. For the first few days that the virus had spread, Rachel had locked herself in doors, waiting for the panic to go. She knew people would be in a frenzy, trying to get out of town, blocking up the high way and ransacking all the shops for supplies. That's when people would have been most vulnerable and prone to attack. She was smart about her calculations. She left her house only when her supplies had dwindled.

The first time she had seen someone was on her first bout. It had been a group of three adults and two teenagers. They had come running out of Target when they bumped into her. The woman looked at her with wide eyes and blond, frizzled hair. She could tell from the fear in her eyes that the undead were obviously inside. The woman collected herself without warning, or even a greeting and she was off again, running down the road while the two men of the group handled killing the stragglers.

The next time she had seen them was some while later as Rachel was making her way home. The woman she had seen before was getting mauled by one of five zombies. She had stared at Rachel as she drove by, with those same wild, crazed eyes as before. Rachel contemplated getting out of the car, but the woman and her family were already gone; infected. There was nothing she could have done to help them, it would have only endangered her own life...and for what, so that the family could have an hour more to live? She didn't want to think of it that way, but that's the way it had to be now.

She had only seen one more person after that, and only for a brief second. They had been braking into a car at the end of her street. There was no broadcasts, radio calls, no army coming to save her—there was just silence. And Rachel had never felt more alone.

Sometimes it was nice to be alone. It left more thinking time and fewer people to worry about, or argue with. It also meant more rations and more protection for herself. If there was a bunch of people dragging behind her, slowing her down, she would more than likely die.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but soon enough she was back out in her Hummer for another supply run. She had found the Hummer parked in some rich family's drive way. At first she had been hesitant, because stealing was wrong. But then she remembered that the world wasn't what it used to be, laws weren't there to judge her any more. The family obviously didn't need it, but she did. Her uncle had taught her how to hot-wire cars when she was eleven. It was against her fathers better wishes, but her uncle had sworn her to secrecy. He was a mechanic who knew all sorts of things about cars and Rachel loved going to his garage at the weekends to help him out. He was also the one who taught her how to shoot a gun. She had been sixteen then and a lot of teenager kidnappings had been going on. But, as her uncle always used to tell her, what her fathers didn't know, couldn't hurt them.

It was that same day she was coming home from the gun shop, having needed new bullets for her rifle when she saw them surrounding a tree. Long dirty nails clawed at the bark as the dead groaned, reaching for something high up in the tree that she couldn't see. But that's when she saw the boots dangling from the branch, struggling to keep them up and away from dead hands. Her eyes followed the legs up to a boy. He looked around the same age as her. She let out a sigh. Sometimes in situations you had to look the other way and move one, because you couldn't help them. But there was only three undead and if she left him there, she wouldn't know how she would feel about that later.

She parked the Hummer a little way down the road from them. She reached over and grabbed her bat from the passengers side and hopped out of the car. Using her gun would be easier, but she didn't want to attract any more attention. She could take out three, not three-hundred. With her bat tight in her hand, she walked over to them. When she was around five feet away, she cleared her throat and tapped her bat against the ground.

Together, the three zombies turned towards the new noise. The started to hobble towards her, completely ignoring the boy who still sat up in the tree. She placed her feet firmly on the ground and bent her knees slightly. They didn't move too fast, but that didn't mean they were any less dangerous. The first one came hurdling towards her. Moving swiftly she extended her leg and tripped the zombie over. Its body went hurdling to the ground, its face splatting gruesomely against the ground. It still moved. With a quick move, she brought up her bat and swung it down against its skull. Blood splattered on her tanned legs as she watched the body go limp on the ground.

There wasn't any time to compose herself before the next one attacked. It came from behind, with arms wide open as if it wanted to hug her. She dodged out-of-the-way just in time as the body fell to the ground. This one was faster than the other, and quickly it managed to pull itself from the ground; Rachel let it. Killing two birds with one stone, Rachel swung her bat with as much force as she could muster. It swung into the first zombies temple, straight through and into the next ones. Like dominoes. Their bodies fell on top of each other, unmoving.

Then she looked up to the tree, where the boy was already climbing down. He had soft brown curls that you could tell would have been wild had sweat not been dampening it. He wore a plain black v-neck top which accented his coaler-bone nicely and black jeans which he had tucked into his laced black boots.

"You know, riding around in that Hummer could attract some attention. Human or otherwise." She snapped out of her thoughts as the boy appeared in front of her.

"I can take care of myself. Besides, if I hadn't of been driving around in it, I wouldn't have been able to save your life." Rachel said, placing her bat underneath her arm. The boy in front of her smiled, running a hand through his thick curls.

"You didn't save my life, I had it under control—"

"You call hiding in a tree surrounded by three undead having it under control?" She asked sarcastically, not being able to contain her laughter. He grunted. "No I would like to know your definition of having it under control?" She sighed. "Is it really that much of a big deal to admit that a girl saved your life?"

No reply.

"Whatever." Rachel replied and turned to walk away.

"Wait." He called after her. "Where are you going?"

She stopped in her tracks and swirled back around the face him. "What's it got to do with you?" She asked.

"Listen, I figured since your the only person I've seen around here for days that we could stick together. I think we would both feel better if we had someone else with us, so we aren't alone." He said. Rachel looked at him, taking in his appearance, his expression. She smiled and turned away, walking back to her Hummer. She paused outside of the drivers side.

"I think your the one who needs to listen. I don't do groups, I don't do people. You would only slow me down and probably get me killed. This is a different life now, its every body for themselves. I think it would be best for you and I to go our separate ways. It would certainly be much more beneficial to my safety."

He didn't say anything for the longest moment. Rachel watched his eyes calculate her, watched the slight dip at the corner of his mouth. "I think you need to realise something." He said suddenly. "Its the end of the world here. But it doesn't have to be everyone for themselves. Being alone, that's what's going to get you killed, not me. Its going to get real lonely, real fast out there. And when your in trouble and need some help, when your alone, there going to be no one there to help you. I don't want to spend very much time with you either," She made a face. "But at the end of all this, I'd rather not be alone, because its fucking scary out there."

Rachel watched the heave of his chest as it rose and fell. She considered his words, only for a moment. Maybe she was being irrational, but she didn't want to risk putting her life into the hands of a stranger if she didn't have to. However, he hadn't been wrong. It kind of was lonely. Maybe she had been a loner before, but now that she didn't have anyone, now that she was surrounded by complete darkness, it seemed all consuming. Like a vortex that she couldn't find her way out of.

"Fine." She finally said. The words came out faint and foreign. "You can come with me, but if your about to get bitten by a zombie, don't expect me to save your ass going." She turned without further word and got into the Hummer. The boy smirked. "Move it, or I'm leaving you behind." She shouted to him. He snapped out of his daze and quickly ran up to the Hummer, climbing into the passengers side.

Once he was in, he buckled up his seatbelt and turned to her. "There's something I have to tell you-"

Rachel's head snapped to him in a blinding rush. She had only just started the car, but just as quickly she pressed her foot against the brake. "You've been bitten haven't you? Get out of the car right now before I-"

"Relax will you. I haven't been bitten." He shouted over her. Then he moved his gaze from her eyes to the wind-shield. "So here's the thing. I got a text from my friends a while ago saying that they were all locked up inside of our school. I was heading there before those three zombies started chasing me, which I would have had under control if I hadn't dropped my bat-" She shot him a look. "But anyway, I just wanted to check if they're still there. Its been a while, but-"

"No way in this life or the next. I don't care if they're your friends. More people will just slow me down. You can go if you want to, I'm not keeping you here but I'm not coming with you." She slammed her foot down on the accelerator. She wasn't totally sure why she had even let him come along with her, especially when she didn't even like him that much: but a whole bunch of other people? That was just a human barbecue waiting to happen. There was no way she was going to risk her life for a bunch of people she didn't know.

She could feel his gaze on her. He spoke again, his time softer with slightly pleading hint. "Please, I know this is a lot to ask, especially for a person you don't know. You have no obligation towards them or me, but they're my friends and I need to know if they're alive. If I could just see the, make sure-" He paused. "You don't even have to stay with us. You could just take me there and you wouldn't even have to stay. But if I don't get there and help out—you see there's this guy in a wheelchair and a pregnant girl-"

"Fine." Rachel cut him off.

He looked at her, confused. "Fine?" He asked.

"Yes. I can see how much you want to be with them and if your with them, it means I don't have to be with you." Rachel smiled at him and he laughed, shaking his head in response. Neither of them said anything as he gave the directions to his school. She could tell he wanted to say something more, as he kept sneaking glances as her; but he wouldn't push the situation any further, she felt. He couldn't force the matter, they both wanted two very different things.

The school came into sight after some while and Rachel was glad for it. She pulled up close to the entrance, just in case they would have to make for a hasty exit, and turned off the engine.

"I'm not promising that they're in there. But here-" She handed him a gun. "just in case."

The boy thanked her and took the gun confidently. They made their way into the school with their backs slightly to each other, making sure all areas of their surrounding were covered with all eyes. They didn't need to be sneaked up on. As they stepped inside, Rachel evaluated that the school had definitely at some point hoarded people. Both of them made their way down the hall, Rachel keeping eye to the left while the boy kept to the right.

A silent shuffling came from down the hall. It got louder and louder, closer. She could see the boy next to her tighten his grip around her gun.

A figure stepped around the corner. "Blaine?" It called. The figure moved into the light, revealing a tall boy with pasty skin. Blaine, she tested the name out. Blaine loosened his grip on the gun and ran towards the boy, encasing him in a bone-crushing hug. The hug lasted for some uncomfortable moments, with enough time fore more people to come racing around the corner. There was three of them. An Asian boy, a pregnant blond-haired girl and a boy with a Mohawk.

"Good to see you made it, bro." The boy with the Mohawk slapped him across the back as he pulled him into a hug. The Asian boy copied his actions before the blond girl leaped up onto her toes, kissed him on the cheek and swallowed him in her arms.

"I'm really glad to see you safe, Blaine." The blond said, smiling up at him while cupping the sides of his face with her hands. "We were so worried. Kurt had been talking non stop about you. We actually had to pin him down at one point to keep him from coming after you." They all laughed. They talked amongst themselves, her presence completely unbeknown. She contemplated leaving, turning around and walking out. Blaine had his friends now, he didn't need her and she certainly didn't need him. But something else compelled her to stay—something that had her longing for the familiarity they had with each other.

The tall pasty guy was the first to notice her. He stood staring, eye wide with shock. "How are you and how did you get in here?" He said. The others turned to look.

"I came in through the door?" Rachel pulled a face, choking back her laughter. "If you wanted to keep people out, you should really put a lock on it." She noticed the tension in their faces. "Relax will you. I came in with Blaine, I'm not here to kill you."

The tension relieved form their faces. "Will you be staying with us?" The blond asked, surveying over her body.

Rachel scowled at the girl, feeling slightly exposed. She knew her type in high school. The popular kids. They used to look her up and down in the same manor. "No. As I told Blaine, I'm not overly fond of big groups. You know, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. I got him here and so my work is done, I'll be leaving now." She told them and started to retrace her steps back to the door. The pasty boy looked like he was about to say something when a loud scream echoed through the halls. Everyone looked at each other. Another scream came, this time closer. There was a pause where everyone grabbed onto their weapons and waited.

A woman came running around the corner.

"What's wrong?" The Mohawk boy asked, standing in front of her.

The red-head gulped, breathing deeply in quick breaths. "Loads of them. They're all over—and—coming this way."

The group became a panic. The red-head had started to cry while the blond tried to comfort her. The boys talked amongst themselves, trying to come up with a solution to their problem. They were talking about defending the place and staying.

Rachel shook her head. How did they ever expect to survive if they were like this under stress. You had to know what you were doing, act immediately. There was no time for second guessing. This was another reason why Rachel knew groups were a bad idea. There was loads of conflicting theories, lots of different people wanting to take charge. You needed one solid plan, not twenty different ones. However, she felt some kind of guilt. It was her fault the herd was coming, the Hummer would have brought them to the school. Normally, she drove around her block a few times to dissuade zombies from following her home. But she hadn't done that here. She'd let them straight to the all you can eat buffet.

She looked around her and ran straight to the nearest window. Some of the zombies weren't too far off the gate to the entrance of the school. She counted thirty, maybe forty of them. Under normal circumstances, Rachel would have turned the other way and avoided the herd. But she couldn't ignore them now, not when they were knocking at her front door with no way of escape. Besides, there was a few people here, they could take them.

"What are you thinking?" Blaine asked from beside her. The group had stopped their bickering and had came to stand next to her, observing the same scene.

"How many people do you have here?" Rachel asked.

"Eighteen, including you." Pasty boy replied.

"Do you have any weapons?"

"Only these three." Asian boy said. He pointed to the one in his arms, the other two held by the pasty boy and the guy with the Mohawk. "And they haven't got much ammo in them either. It wound be enough to kill all of them."

"That won't be a problem. I have a few things in my Hummer outside. All I need you to know is how to shoot them. The zombies aren't that close, I can run out quickly and get them." Rachel shuffled her way over to the door. "Use the upstairs windows to shoot with the long range guns, everyone with a hand gun needs to be outside within close range."

"Wait," She turned at the door to find Blaine catching up to her. "I'll come with you, keep guard." He motioned towards the gun in his hand. She nodded and then opened the doors.

She gripped the bat tighter in her hand as she made her way down the steps and over to the Hummer. Blaine followed behind her closely, his gun raised to the distance where the zombies had just started to come in through the gates.

Rachel fumbled around the back of the Hummer, looking for the guns. She found them in among the bottom of the pile, under a box of tinned food. When she turned back around, she saw Blaine firing bullets at a zombie getting awfully close. None of his ammo had yet to hit the zombie, his hands were shaking too much. Rachel picked out a hand gun from the bag she kept her guns in and shot the zombie once in the head. It fell to the floor with a satisfying crunch.

Blaine turned to her. "Maybe you could try shooting the thing a little quicker next time, you know, before it kills us."

"Sorry." He said, shrugging his shoulders. Rachel watched him turn around with a new confidence. He shook his shoulders slightly and aimed the gun. The first bullet didn't land where he had aimed, but the second hit the zombie dead in the middle of its eye brows.

Rachel collected the bag of guns onto her shoulder and shut the boot of the Hummer. "Here, take these inside. Long range guns go upstairs, tell the people who aren't too scared to get their asses down here and help me shoot."

Blaine nodded, firing off a round of bullets before running inside with the bag.

Rachel tested the gun in her hands. It wasn't hers, since she hadn't gotten than back from Blaine, but it was a gun nonetheless. She heard the ricocheting of gun fire coming from above her as bullets started firing and bodies started falling.

She adjusted the aim of her gun to one of the closer zombies, pulled the trigger. It went hurdling through the air and landed one target, in the middle of its skull. Blaine came out moments later, followed by two boys with hands gun and one girl. They stood for the longest time, firing shot after shot. More zombies appeared after a while, attracted to the school by the sound of gunfire. Eventually, however, they stopped coming and Rachel used her knife to take out the last two, to savour on bullets.

They headed back inside when it was all over, the stench of rotting flesh too much to bare. It was still bring outside and Rachel turned her attention to the watch on her wrist. Two o'clock.

"Thank you." Blaine said to her, a smile on his lips. " You didn't have to stay and help us, but you did."

Rachel didn't get so much of a response in before a voice cut in before her. It was high pitched and filled with fear.

"Guys, you might want to come and look at this."