Author's Note: Hey, guys. This is a side project I'm working on. It's originally intended to be a oneshot, but how many of those have I made and continued? Speaking of which, my next plans are to write up new chapters for Fractured and NQL, as well as a co-written Pezberry fic by myself and the lovely electrictwizist. Anyway, Enjoy! Also, I had no idea what genre to put this under, so forgive me. xD
Vows of Another Kind
"They're coming, Quinn."
"Rach-"
"What if we run out of ammo? Our nearest safehouse is two hours away! We'll be defenseless, driving miles upon miles until we eventually run out of gas and then-"
"Rachel! Rachel, listen to me. We'll stay together for as long as we can. But I swear to you one thing, and that will never change. No matter what happens, no matter how long we're separated or how far apart we are, I will find you. I will always find you."
The outbreak happened when they were eighteen.
It wasn't like the movies.
Some idiot at a nuclear power plant in Pennsylvania caused a technical malfunction, which triggered an explosion that wiped out half of the city. Most of those who were caught in the blast died on impact; those who didn't, well…it wasn't good.
The high doses of radiation spawned mutations left and right. Cells multiplied uncontrollably. Limbs swelled to several times their natural size. There was no containing it, and the victims of these excessive tumors typically succumbed to their prolonged deaths by crushed organs or bones. But still, there were others. Others that were a minority in a rapidly decreasing population. The mutation lived in their cells, thrived even but never turned fatal. A host of symptoms became indicative of those who possessed the mutation - muscle enlargement, increasing bouts of mental instability, brain cell deterioration, and altered vision, just to name a few.
Oh, and an insatiable desire for human flesh. Must have been a surprise for the first victim.
And so it began. While scientists and researchers were killing themselves for answers, the zombies were just killing.
It turned out that any method of transferring the radioactive cells from one person's bloodstream to another - a bite or blood transfusion, for example, would spread the condition. The cells would multiply as a rate too high for the victim's antibodies to kill them off. On top of that, decomposing corpses released so much radiation that the very air was dangerous now. Too much outside exposure, too much time spent absorbing the nuclear toxins, and the risk of developing the mutation in later years would gradually increase. Or you eventually died of radiation poisoning. If you were lucky.
The epidemic soon spread from Pennsylvania across the East Coast. Trees and plants wilted until there was barely anything left but dried, splintered wood. Most power sources were disconnected. Buildings were raided for food and basic survival equipment - windows were broken, furniture was destroyed, doors were bashed in, and locks were broken off. Between the sheer amount of deaths and the remaining survivors' haste to flee west, major cities had practically become wastelands.
Rachel Berry's dream was to move to New York. She was starting to regret that.
And so was Quinn Fabray.
Rachel always knew where she was headed in life – Broadway. Sure, she had a bit of a setback when choosing a college, but nothing was going to stop her. She'd gotten into NYADA, and everything was going as planned.
…Until her neighbors started getting sick, and then her classmates. She read more obituaries in the morning papers than she could count. The news was spreading quickly, but no one actually believed it. Not until they saw it for themselves. Not until the governor started calling for evacuations.
But Rachel Berry was nothing if not determined. She would make it in New York.
Quinn had decided to go to Yale for their Drama program, and Rachel wholeheartedly supported the decision. By the end of their senior year, the two of them had entirely set aside their old rivalry, both set on making the most of themselves away from Lima. During the summer, without the social pressures of high school bearing down on them, Quinn and Rachel alike discovered what lied beneath the other's facade. As the time went on, Quinn usually drove over twice every month for a visit, and they traded emails and phone calls in the interim.
When the Pennsylvania incident occurred, she was already in action.
Shelby had moved from Lima to L.A. after getting the frantic call from Quinn. Beth was safe, at least.
But they weren't.
At the first reported news of the outbreak, she'd started packing to head west immediately, but suffered one major setback. Rachel stubbornly decided to postpone their evacuation plans, and Quinn refused to leave her without someone nearby. She'd held off for a nearly a month, willing to wait until the other girl was prepared.
Until she got a phone call that had her in the car and headed for the highway before she even hung up.
Two hours later, Quinn was practically dragging a protesting brunette out of her apartment.
"What do you mean 'you're not leaving'? We have to go, Rachel. New York is done for - there's nothinghere for you! We should have left weeks ago!"
"This is my dream, Quinn! Doesn't that mean anything? I can't just leave!" Rachel pleaded.
Quinn grabbed both of Rachel's wrists and stared directly into her eyes. "Wake up! In case you haven't noticed, your reality is that you're living in a 1960s B movie! Except when you die, you die. There's no stage acting here, Rachel. You can't just walk off set and be done with it. The only 'revival' you're going to be doing will last until someone manages to put a pistol to your head."
Some of the irritation drained from her expression, but the seriousness remained. "…If you're staying, I'm staying with you."
"I still can't believe I had to teach you how to shoot a gun properly. I would think that would be the first thing you'd learn in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. Especially with a cop for a father."
"I didn't think it would ever be practical information! I always carry a taser and a whistle. Besides, Daddy never even let me near his guns without supervision. And I can shoot, thank you very much. I'm just not the most accurate aimer."
"Yeah, somehow I don't think a taser's going to keep them down for very long. They need something more…permanent."
"How did you get so good, anyway?"
"I've been groomed as a beauty queen and a Cheerio, remember? Putting on mascara every day requires a steady hand. Being at the top of the pyramid requires perfect balance - especially by Coach Sylvester's standards. It sounds ridiculous, but proper positioning and balance are the basics of good aiming. …And it doesn't hurt that my father liked to hunt."
"…Quinn?"
"Yes, Rachel?"
Warm lips gently pressed against her cheek in gratitude, before Rachel spoke once more. "Thank you. For everything. You saved my life back there."
"You saved mine long before then."
"Rachel, behind you!"
They were swarming. They were swarming, damnit. They'd lasted eight months, but it had never been this bad before. Every gunshot seemed to attract more unwanted attention. The duo had to resort to running through alleyways of what was formerly Manhattan, climbing fire escapes and emptying rounds into countless skulls from above while dangling from the rusted rails.
But Quinn and Rachel were running out of routes in this little maze of theirs. The small mob of undead humans was gaining on them quickly. They made yet another dash around a corner, with Rachel leading the way and Quinn occasionally spinning around and whipping her rifle over her shoulder as a precaution.
The blonde had shouted her companion's name, causing the other girl to turn around. She was just about to ask her companion whether to go left, right, or straight ahead, before she caught the telltale stench of rotting flesh and a low groan as some nameless (and now lifeless) man ambled into the central alleyway from Rachel's left side, lunging at her.
"Move, unless you want a bloody stump where your arm used to be!"
Rachel dived to the right just as Quinn pulled the trigger. The man's skull burst upon impact, sending a shower of mutilated brain matter and blood everywhere. Rachel scrambled to her feet, wiping off the spatter of blood droplets on her face with the back of her hand.
She'd protected Rachel, but at the sake of her own safety. Another zombie caught her by the wrist, jerking her backwards. The rifle clattered to the ground, but Quinn had always been a strategic person.
Her free hand dropped to her side, quickly pulling out the Glock holstered on her hip. In one swift movement, the metal weapon was pressed against his temple and a bullet was lodged into his brain.
But not before his teeth sank into her shoulder and left her screaming.
It was a good thing Hiram Berry was a surgeon. Rachel admired her handiwork - medical gauze expertly bound around Quinn's right shoulder. She'd even threaded in a few stitches, which had soon burst. The expanse of flesh was swelling at a far too advanced rate for Rachel to do anything else but try to compress it with bandages. She frowned gravely.
"With the depth of the wound, and the fact that you're still alive…Quinn, you…"
"Say it."
Rachel sighed, averting her eyes before murmuring, "You'll be one of them by dawn."
"Then shoot me," the blonde said simply.
"I am not shooting you! Are you crazy? We're going to find a way to fix this. I know we will. Maybe if I sterilize it enough…" She voiced more thoughts under her breath as she paced around the floor of the warehouse, before Quinn finally stood up and tugged on her arm.
"Rach, I'm going to ask you for two things. You have to promise me that you'll do them with no objections. Consider them my dying wishes," the taller girl muttered with a weak smile.
"Quinn, you're not dying."
The blonde chuckled and shook her head. Yes, I am. "Promise me," she repeated expectantly.
"I…I promise." Rachel echoed, her brown eyes seeking an answer.
"First…kiss me." She didn't even have to wait five seconds before the shorter girl's arms were around her neck, stretching up on pointed toes to bridge the gap between them. Their lips sought each other out desperately, passionately. But there were no smiles for this. Quinn pulled away almost as quickly as it had begun, brushing her thumb across her lower lip. When her gaze met Rachel's again, it was completely devoid of emotion.
"Now, leave."
Rachel stood in place, mouth half open in shock, but unable to form words. Quinn's expression shifted in seconds, from something entirely indifferent to furious.
"What the hell are you waiting for? Grab a gun, grab your bag, and go!"
"But-"
Quinn's back was turned, already walking away. "You promised me," was all she uttered.
Rachel followed after her, reaching her arm out to close the distance and touch her girlfriend's shoulder. Her face crumpled and she drew her arm back to her chest, turning to make herself a decent supply kit. When she was prepared to leave, she took one last look at the girl behind her.
"Remember that I love you, Quinn. For as long as I exist, I'm yours."
And then she was gone.
Quinn's body slumped against the aluminum siding if the entrance, until she was sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her range of sight was beginning to blur around the edges - tunnel vision. Shit. Her gaze darted around until it landed on the shard of glass by her feet. Her fingers fluttered over its sharp edges, gingerly picking it up. Eyes that were once a vibrant hazel were starting to become clouded with a milky white film.
She rested the point of the sliver of glass against the inside of her wrist, daring herself to press down. It's the only way. For Rachel.
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
Her hand trembled as she flung the glass across the room in frustration, watching it shatter into pieces. You coward. You can't even protect her from yourself. Quinn slammed her fist into the brick wall next to her, smiling with a bitter satisfaction as droplets of blood began to form on her scraped knuckles. Quinn nursed her injured hand. Could she offer herself to any survivors, in the hope that they'd put her out of her misery? Short of getting her head shot off, she would probably reanimate, anyway.
She continued to sit there for twenty minutes, and then she laughed - a pitiful, broken sound. "That's it, then. We're both dead." A tear rolled down her cheek.
It was hard fighting fate, and Quinn couldn't struggle anymore. Hour by hour, she let her memories slip down the metaphorical drain that all of the recently undead fell victim to. What was her old address? What was her favorite color? Everything blurred away until only one thing was present in the forefront of her mind.
As the sun rose and cast faded golden shadows across the contours of her face, Quinn's mantra was the only thing that remained permanent.
…Don't you remember, Rachel? I will always find you.
Author's Note: Review and tell me what you think! Until next time. :)
-EtherealPhoenix.