RESIDENT GLEEVIL
September 14, 2015
Location: Somewhere in New York.
Time: 10:21 am.
Diary Entry #1,
It's been exactly three months since the virus struck Lima. The cities are just lone, dust-filled remains of what the dream used to be, not one single memory of the last time we came here. We all wonder how long it'll be until one of us falls, until one of us dreadfully gets contaminated by the T-Virus. Brittany is more optimistic, she always is. She has high hopes that somehow, we are all immune to this dreadful, life-consuming disease. If only things were that simple. Quinn isn't as positive - she's always on watch, aware - she hasn't quite slept soundly these past couple of months. She misses her family, she misses Puck.
I wonder if we'll ever find a way out of this, if we'll find that town we have been hearing over the radio. "We offer security, food, and water. I repeat, there is no contamination". Brittany repeats these lines daily, to give us hope, some flicker of optimism, to reassure us that somehow we'll be okay. At least I'm glad I didn't lose her, like we lost the others. Mercedes, Tina, Lauren, Mike - they were the first ones gone. We haven't heard any news about Finn, Rachel, Sam, or Puck - I'm dreading the day we realize they probably are walking around with the wave of the living dead, just like every other person we loved is.
But if I'd lost her, I don't know what I would have done. I probably would have thrown myself into a mass of zombies, just because I know I can't live without her. Not now especially. My goal is to protect her. I'm determined to make her live as long as possible, even if I do falter first. Quinn knows Brittany is my priority, she knows that if I go first, she has to make sure to keep her safe. She deserves much more than this life.
Desperately seeking refuge,
Santana Lopez.
The sound of the SUV resounds in your ears, waking you up from unconsciousness. You wake up scared, you're immediately alert, but it only takes Brittany's reassuring hand for you to sigh in relief. You're pretty sure you haven't gotten sleep in a long time and surprisingly, you're used to it. You only roughly need two hours of sleep daily to be able to function, because the sleeping hours you are supposed to get, you give them to Brittany. Selflessly, you let her take your other 5 hours of sleep because you want to protect her. She doesn't patrol as much as you do, and when she does, you're at her side, or Quinn is - but when you're not with her, you don't sleep peacefully, you are always afraid Quinn will let one of those dead bastards slip by, you're afraid she won't be able to run fast enough, or shoot the ghoul on the head correctly. You're afraid the living corpse will attack whom you've been protecting since day one. So you wake up every twenty minutes, just to make sure she's okay, safe, still yours. Quinn looks at you through the review mirror while she holds onto the steering wheel. She gives you an apologetic smile before turning her attention to the road again. "We avoid Manhattan?"
You rub your eyes and look up. "And the Bronx, Brooklyn, Upper West Side - pretty much anywhere there is a vast amount of population. We need to get there quickly Quinn".
"I know. We will". She tries to reassure you but her voice fails her. She isn't as hopeful.
You sit up, and her arms instantly go around you, the only arms that help you maintain your sanity. You lean into the embrace and close your eyes. "San?" She asks you, and she immediately has your attention.
"Yeah B?"
"I'm so hungry". She comments and does that pout, the pout that makes you forget just for a second the situation you are currently living in. You smile warmly at her and nod.
"I know B, hold on". You wiggle out of her arms, feelings foreign instantly - her arms are the only thing that feels like home - and you lean towards the back of the car. "We have Doritos, Lays, smores, marshmallows, twinkies, snack packs... What do you want B?"
You know Brittany probably has that frown on her face and it makes you smile again - the frown that motions she is struggling to think. "Doritos will be okay, I'm in a mood for something salty right now". You're glad she helps maintain a sense of normalcy in your life. If it were Quinn and you alone, you'd probably go crazy. Brittany is the only one who makes you forget that you are fighting for your life every minute of every passing hour.
"Shit". Quinn curses, hitting the breaks and making the Doritos fly out of your hand. You curse inwardly but Brittany is already reaching for them, but you're panicking.
"What?" You say and look forward. It's instantly obvious why she's cursing and then you curse out loud. "Mother fuckers".
The sound of Brittany letting the Doritos fall on the seat startles you and you instinctively reach for her hand. You clasp your fingers with hers tightly and close your eyes. "We'll be fine B, I promise. I'll keep you safe".
But they've already noticed your presence and they're coming at you, one by one, in a wave of unlimited undead bodies. Quinn's already backing up but she could never quite handle the reverse gear. She's trying to make the car turn around and you curse internally again, because you were pretty sure this was the one way out of New York.
"Open the roof". You command.
"You're insane Santana!" Quinn yells and Brittany clings onto your hand tighter. You swallow.
"Open the damn roof; it's the only way out of here!" You are nearly crying because you're losing hope with the second.
Quinn clings onto the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turn white. She takes a deep breath and presses the button.
"S…" Her voice calls, Brittany is looking at you with pleading eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere B, stay down here". And you hope you're right.
You're accustomed to being the brave one, always taking a stand first. It's in your nature, you don't back off, you never back down. So you reach for the AKA-47 that you and Quinn managed to steal from a weapon shop and slide up on the roof of the car. You groan at the heaviness of the gun and lean it against the roof, glad you are an expert on loading guns now. You hold a couple of bullets in your mouth and you feel Brittany's hand touching your calf from under you. She's worried about you; she doesn't want you to do this. But you have to. "I love you Britt". You tell her, just in case, and you slide out. Your feet are firmly placed on the roof of the massive Land Rover and you kneel down. The bullets shoot out in frenzy and you have to concentrate not to fall back. And you watch the bastards fall, one by one, and you watch them topple over each other when Quinn hits the breaks.
"Santana, it's not enough!" She yells and you curse. But it's Brittany's voice that makes you see rationally.
"San, please, come back down!" She's pleading you, you can almost picture the tears in her eyes and you give in, letting yourself fall back on the seat from the top with a thud. You sigh and cover you face with your hands.
"Get out of the drivers seat". You tell Quinn in a monotone voice and she grips the steering wheel tighter. She grits her teeth because she probably feels useless. "Fuck Quinn, off the driver's seat, now!" She obeys though and she climbs on the passenger seat. You place a hand on Brittany's cheek before sliding into the driver's seat. "I wasn't raised in Lima Heights for nothing". You mumble, back the car a couple of hundred-yards away before you hit the accelerator.
The car shoots forward and the numbers in the speedometer rise slowly. 40…50…70…85…100….120… There's adrenaline pumping through your veins and with your jaw set tight. "Britt, hold on tight". You're sure Quinn is offended you didn't include her, but she understands and holds on too. Brittany shuts her eyes tightly right before impact.
The bodies begin to topple over the car, one by one. They roll from the hood, to the roof, and down on the street. They're now a dismembered mass of nothingness and you can't believe this actually worked.
"Oh my God…" Quinn comments. "It worked".
Brittany however is wide-eyed and you can't understand why. It's not until she panics that you turn and see the reason. There's one of those bastards hanging from the door and Brittany's scream resounds in the car.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck" You repeat and hit the breaks. It works though, the ghoul flied off into the pavement, but naturally, gets back up to walk to the car. "Shit…"
But Quinn reacts, opens the door and slams it right on the face of the mother fucker. He stumbles back, and you're surprised to see he doesn't fall. "They're fucking immortal".
"Of course they are Quinn! What part of living dead don't you understand?"
In the midst of arguing there's a gun shot and suddenly, your mouth is gaping. Brittany is holding the hand gun through the window, there's a hole from the perfect head-shot Brittany managed to shoot from the Desert Eagle. She's breathing rapidly and then she looks at you. She lets the gun fall on the floor of the car and she sits back.
"Just drive S, please". She tells you and you nod, closing your eyes while the car shoots forward. You roll the window up and look at Brittany through the mirror. She tries to smile but it fails her in her eyes. She hates shooting, she hates this, she hates the violence that comes with this – you can only imagine how hard this is for her. And she closes her eyes too before she speaks up. "We'll talk later, I promise".
You nod and let the few minutes of silence drown the car.
"And by the way Santana, you were raised in Lima Heights Adjacent, that's the nice neighborhood in Lima. They have a gate for you to come through, there's even paid security. You used to ride your pink Barbie bike around the neighborhood when you were little".
And Brittany giggles from the back while she lies on the seat. You roll your eyes and grumble. "Whatever". And for that moment, everything is slightly normal again.
