Chapter 2: Tragic Kingdom
Rachel Berry was many things, but back then, future Broadway star was all she thought really mattered.
It was what got her though the slushies, the mocking, the loneliness, the taunts, the eye rolling; that knowledge that one day she would be on Broadway, and high school wouldn't matter after she walked across that stage and accepted her diploma.
It was center to her core. It was what made her special...it was the only thing about her that made others wish to be around her, even as her passion for it put others off from wanting to be around her.
So as her father drove their family through Lima, Ohio, Rachel Berry's only real fear at the moment was that, somehow, this would jeopardize her Broadway dreams.
She was certain that everyone would arrive safely with their families at the meet up area, they would head towards the Jones's cabin and things would go back to normal in one to three months, depending on how long it took the military to adjust to, then remedy the situation.
She would freely admit later -much later, and only to a select few, that she had not even thought about in those first few hours, had not even realized, just how the world was going to change. She had no idea who little her dreams of Broadway mattered until reality slapped her in the face.
Rachel sent out another text message, then set her phone down in the seat. In the front, her fathers were arguing. They were driving from Henrietta Berry's cottage -LeRoy's grandmother. It was on the outskirts of town, and the total opposite side of Lima from their house.
LeRoy had wanted to get his grandfather's rifle, just in case, but the other two members of his family hadn't wanted him to go alone. They had also stopped at several stores to gather supplies that may be needed that they had not had in their home, and between the very long lines, and the other customer's near rioting about the price gauging, it had taken them far longer to get to the rest stop then Rachel would have liked. Luckily, their cell phones were still working so she had kept an indifferent Puck updated on their progress, and had still been able to send out messages to current and former New Direction members.
She was mostly sure Santana didn't mean it when earlier she had replied to Rachel's text message saying "go b sum zoms appetizer britts and I r going to abuelas"
And yet, even Santana's message had been more satisfactory then the message Rachel had received from Shelby. The woman had simply replied that she and Beth would not be joining them at the Jones's cabin, and thanked Rachel for thinking of them.
Shelby did not inquire about Rachel or her dads, did not ask that the Berry's join her…Shelby did not seem to even care that Rachel was her child, and there were literal monsters (if the news was to believed) around.
Rachel knew, objectively, after Shelby's rejection of her sophomore year and subsequent adoption of Quinn and Noah's baby, that the woman had made it clear she wasn't going to be Rachel's mother. And Rachel was over it; really.
Truly.
The hurt of rejection was a hurt Rachel was familiar with, of course. Deeply. So coming from the woman who had given birth to her had rubbed salt into the ever present wound.
So yes, she was fully over it even if it still stung a bit, so she was glad she was able to busy herself with texting and conversing with her fathers so that she did not obsess with sending the perfect reply back to Shelby.
They, she comforted herself, loved her and would always be there for her. She did not need Shelby, not really, and the woman clearly did not need Rachel. She had mourned their relationship, moved on, and this was just an unexpected blip on the radar.
"I maintain that it's foolish to ignore what the government is saying. We shouldn't put our safety in the hands of a bunch of teenagers' half baked end of the world plans. Let alone the safety of our daughter. How much longer until we are there, this area of town seems to be crawling with those things?"
"Hiram, I think it's imprudent to rely on the government to keep us safe. As long as we have enough resources, the Jones's cabin should be far enough out that we'll navigate this situation just fine."
Hiram sighed, "If it is not as protected as they think it will be, then we leave. If it becomes unsafe, we leave. If Finn tries to have alone time with Rachel, we leave."
"Agreed."
"Dads!"
"What darling -we have to have our priorities in order," Hiram said, turning towards the backseat, where Rachel was perched in the middle, and gave his daughter a grin.
Rachel shot him a look that said she was not amused, then leaned forward, and looked worriedly at the small bandage on Hiram's forehead, "How are you feeling daddy?"
"Fine. You two worry far too much. I should not have even wrapped my wrist. I will be more careful the next time I go to get something down off the top shelf of our closet."
"I still think that you packed far too many of Rachel's scrapbooks," LeRoy offered, "I mean, the chances of-" Leroy stopped what he was saying as he put the brakes on, the car jerked forward with a sudden squealing stop, slamming Rachel against her seat belt. "Are you two ok?" LeRoy asked, leaning forward to click the button that made all the doors lock.
"Yes Papa. I am wearing my seatbelt of course, and this is a very highly safety rated vehicle. What is going on?" Rachel asked, leaning forward trying to see what it was that had forced her father to stop so suddenly like that.
"Darling, let us do the talking. This goes against everything we've ever taught you, but do not draw any attention to yourself," LeRoy muttered. His words sent a flutter of fear through Rachel.
Hiram had his hand over his mouth, staring with horror out the front window.
"Daddy, what-" Rachel started to say, but LeRoy hissed a shush at her, and she went silent.
"Now you're going to open the car doors nice and easy, and get out. Leave the keys in the ignition," A rough voice said from outside the car.
"May we grab out personal belongings?" LeRoy asked, his hands up on the wheel.
"Shit, just all of you get out of the car. Fast before those things notice us. Do it fast enough, we might let you take what you can carry." The voice said, clearly agitated.
"Pumpkin, stay behind me and Daddy," LeRoy said, as he carefully undid his belt, unlocked the doors, and pushed his door open, and stepped outside holding his arms up. Following his lead, Hiram and Rachel did the same.
The man standing in the middle of the road holding a shotgun kept it pointed at the ground near her Dads' feet. Rachel bit her lip, and tried to take deep, even breaths to keep the fear at bay. There was an older model SUV pulled over the side of the road, clearly broken down if the open hood and grease on the man's hands were any indication.
"Eric, come out of the SUV and get their things for them. Shelly -help him, then get the kids in there, then our stuff," the man called out. At the man's words, a short teen boy, who looked a few years younger than Rachel, stepped out of the SUV. He was clearly nervous, keeping one hand on gun stuffed in the back of his pants.
"Ke-keep your arms up," he said weakly as he walked towards the back of the Berry's car, a concerned looking woman following him. She had the same vibrant red hair and freckles as the boy, and was quite obviously his mother.
She pulled Rachel's backpack from the back seat, setting it near Rachel's feet with a sad smile, then went to help her son started take out the rolling suitcases and numerous boxes from the hatchback.
After several long minutes, the boy said, "Done. Dad, they must have stopped at the store or something, they've got a lot of stuff in here, good stuff, even a rifle?"
"Just take their stuff out and leave it on the road son."
"Even the rifle? Mom could use the pistol and I could use it?" At the boy's question, all three Berry's looked at the man. Rachel's arms were starting to get tired from being above her head.
He considered, staring hard at Rachel, then Hiram and LeRoy's matching rings as he did so. Finally, he said, "No. Put their bullets in a box so we'll have time to leave while they get them out. We're already taking their car, we can leave them something to defend themselves," he looked around, then added, "They'll need it."
"Perhaps you may drop us off at a safer area. Please?" Rachel asked. She did not have to fake the fear in her voice. A small group of the undead had noticed them by now, were heading towards them, headless of the corpses littering the ground that had already tried to get the family.
"No room. You're the only car that's been up this way since we broke down. Everyone's leaving town or getting supplies, and damned if I thought I was clever heading this way to avoid them. Sorry lil' lady, but if it's a choice between you or my family, I'm choosing my family." The worst part is, the man actually looked sorry -and Rachel did not think he was faking.
"I hope," Hiram said in a snide tone, glaring up at the man, "That karma doesn't bite your behind."
Instead of answering Hiram, the man just said, "Shelly start loading the kids, Eric start putting our stuff in the back. Hurry. " Gesturing with the shotgun, he pointed at the truck, "You three may as well help load our stuff. Quicker we get out of here, the better."
Silently, the three Berry's joined the red haired boy in loading the heavy boxes and bags in the hatchback of their car. They were almost done when the boy noticed the white ace bandage wrapped around Hiram's wrist.
"Dad! He's been bit!" The boy, his hands shaking, pulled the pistol out of the back of his pants and pointed it at Hiram.
"You are mistaken, I just sprained my-" Hiram started, but he finished his sentence, the boy, his eyes wide and his arms now shaking, fired at Hiram. Then, the boy fired at Hiram again. Wild eyed, the boy looked towards his dad.
"Daddy!" Rachel yelled, dropping the box of toys she had been holding and falling to her knees to put pressure on the wound in Hiram's shoulder with one hand, and his side with the other. LeRoy stood in shock for a moment, before flinging himself towards the boy as the redhead looked like he was going to shoot Hiram again.
"He is not bit!" LeRoy shouted, raw pain in his voice. LeRoy stepped forward, his height making the boy shrink back.
The boy stepped back towards his dad again, making sure to hold the gun at LeRoy, "Dad?" he asked in a small voice.
The man looked at the scene before him. "Eric, leave them. Get in the car, we need to go."
"But dad…"
"Now son!"
With one last look at the Berry's, the boy went into their car where his family was waiting.
Rachel, watched through her tears as their car drove away, leaving them in the road with their belongings. She had not even thought to ask for their cell phones.
There were almost a dozen zombies heading towards them. At least, that was how many ones Rachel could see through the tears. Rachel and LeRoy would have only minor issues related to their slacking on their morning runs in outrunning them but with Hiram injured that would be impossible. Rachel glanced at LeRoy, who was clutching his grandfather's rifle, and digging around the tote box the boy had stuffed the ammo into.
Tears welled and fell from her eyes as Rachel put pressure on Hiram's wounds. "It's okay daddy, you are going to be fine," she said slow and clear to him, not wanting him to pick up on her panic.
She could hear her father firing shot after shot with the rifle, and cursing when he missed. Hopefully someone else would come along, and they could get her daddy medical attention. Noah and Finn's mother's were both nurses, so if they could just get Hiram to them, he would be fine. He had to be.
She could not bring herself to sing to him, no matter how much he enjoyed her voice, so she continued speaking soothing words to her daddy, while putting pressure on his wounds. She was acutely aware when LeRoy stopped firing, and looked up at him.
LeRoy seemed to have aged ten years in the minutes it took him to put kill the zombies that had been far too close for comfort.
"That noise will draw them from all over," LeRoy muttered, then looked at Rachel, "How is he?" he asked, his voice low and pained as he stared down at her and Hiram.
"Papa he is bleeding so much, we need to get him to Mrs. Puckerman and Carole, or a hospital," Rachel looked up at her father, tears streaming down her face. She was intensely and suddenly aware a large portion of her, from her legs to her wrists, were covered in her father's blood. She could not even begin to imagine what was going through her Papa's mind as he looked down at his child and partner.
"There's no cars, and I would think if there was any way to fix that vehicle he would have…" LeRoy muttered. Loosely holding the rifle at his side with one hand, he stomped to the pile of their belongings, and shoved boxes aside till he found the one he was looking for. Opening it, he grabbed the large first aid kit, and turned towards Rachel and the prone form of his partner.
"Here Rachel, do what you can with..." LeRoy trailed off as he scrutinized Hiram.
"What is it papa?"
Swallowing thickly, he said, "Rachel, check for a pulse. Then put on your hiking boots."
Rachel did as her father ordered, wiping her hand on her dress first. She felt his pulse at his wrist. Then, not trusting it, she checked his neck. Finally, she whispered, "Papa? He is…." She could not finish her sentence. Saying Hiram was dead would make it real. She closed her eyes and turned away.
"Your daddy…he's gone pumpkin...we need to stay ahead of those things, we have to leave." The raw pain in LeRoy's voice hurt almost as much as knowing Hiram was dead.
"No, we can't, we have to do something," Rachel whispered. She would not open her eyes, because opening them meant this was all real and not some horrible nightmare.
"We have to leave him. I know it's hard, but we can't stay here. Rachel...he'd want us somewhere safe. Please, put on your hiking boots. Pull a pair of socks over your tights first. We'll…we will be doing a lot of walking."
Dread, hurt, and disbelief cursed through Rachel. She opened her eyes, and did what her father told her. She pulled off her bloodstained Mary Janes, and dug through a tote box to find her hiking boots and a pair of wool socks. Her chest was tight, tears fell freely from her eyes, and now that she'd opened them, she could not seem to stop herself from casting long glances at Hiram.
While she was doing that, in-between shooting any zombies that got within range of his rifle, her father was digging through their things and pulling out what he wanted to keep.
After her boots and socks were on, laces firmly tied, he tossed a belt towards her, and said, "Use that to belt your sleeping bag and pillow to the top of your suitcase." She did as he told her, aware that those things were heading towards them. Slowly, but surely. The fear by now had fled, and she moved robotically, following the tasks her father gave her. Likely she was in shock.
LeRoy finishing placing various items in Rachel's backpack, and set it down next to her while she belted her sleeping bag and pillow to the top of her rolling suitcase.
He set her jacket on top of it, then turned towards Hiram's body.
He stood there, staring at the man he loved, not focusing on the world around the two of them until Rachel said, in a small voice "Papa?" She looked at him, sniffling. "I'm sorry Papa. If we had went to the base, like he wanted...this is my fault, I should not have insisted on joining the other New Directions…"
Rachel watched as LeRoy swallowed thickly, then said, "Rachel, this isn't your fault. Going to a cabin with a handful of people instead of going to a military base with hundreds or perhaps even thousands of people has to be safer. It just has too," He looked across at the zombies shuffling towards them, "I just need to gather a few more things, and change my shoes, then we're leaving." He started putting things into his messenger bag.
Rachel bit her lip, and used a clean part of her dress to wipe the tears and snot off her face. Looking at Hiram's body, the wave of hurt washed over her again. She could not just leave him in the middle of the road.
She picked up one of his arms, and started attempting to pull him to the side of the road. After a minute of putting a lot of effort into it, she had only gone perhaps a foot. She felt like a small child, instead of nearly a high school graduate on her way to college and adulthood.
Silently, LeRoy joined her. Between the two of them, they pulled Hiram's body to the side of the road. Just as wordlessly as before, LeRoy resumed what he was doing. Rachel went to their pile of belongings, and pulled out a sheet. She put it over Hiram's body, and bowed her head.
Sometimes, she had pictured herself old, very old, preparing for her fathers funeral. They would die together, peacefully in their sleep, content with life and a daughter who was a hit Broadway star and EGOT award winner, that had given them two amazing grandchildren. She would look elegant, refined, and be able to say at the funeral that they had died together, peacefully and happy. Then she would sing a song (she hadn't decided on which song yet, but hadn't been bothered by that because she knew, just knew that she would have plenty of time to pick,) and everyone would leave the funeral feeling sad, but peaceful.
Looking at Hiram's sheet covered body, she felt like all her dreams were the dream of a foolish, spoiled child. There would be no Broadway, no EGOT, no grandchildren for LeRoy and Hiram to dote on, no arguments about decorating their retirement home. No Hiram at all.
"Rachel, it's time to go," LeRoy said quietly, as he reloaded his rifle. He already changed shoes, had his bulging messenger bag on, and his own suitcase with his sleeping bag and pillow belted to the handle.
Rachel looked at LeRoy.
If she was feeling this bad at losing Hiram, she couldn't even imagine the fathoms of pain her remaining father was in.
Silently, she pulled on her coat. It was September in Ohio, and it would be dark in a few hours. Then it would get colder.
LeRoy was wearing Hiram's coat, despite the fact it was somewhat too small for him, especially in the arms.
She pulled on her backpack, and looked down at her suitcase. The pink of it, her sleeping bag, and pillow stood out brightly over the black belt that strapped them to the handle.
Her father stood waiting. With one last glance at Hiram's body, and the zombies shambling towards them, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase.
Hesitantly, then stronger at first, she said "I doubt it will be a problem with anyone if we were to come back in a vehicle, gather our remaining belongings, and give Daddy a proper burial. Right Papa?" Rachel honestly did not know if anyone would have a problem with that.
Perhaps, given how hot and cold her fellow New Direction members could to be her sometimes, they might. But it was important for her to believe there was a chance Hiram would not be left to decompose on the side of a road. And that they would make it to the rest stop safely.
Grimly, LeRoy looked at the increasing hoard of zombies shuffling towards them, and at the near empty street they would have to walk down, then at his daughter.
"No Pumpkin, I doubt anyone would have a problem with that."
They started walking, both well aware that they had zombies at their back, and many miles to walk. Miles that could have anything in store for them.
Going towards Santana's Grandmother's house from Shelby's felt like riding waves on the ocean in a leaking row boat. Some sense of making sure Beth was safe ensured Quinn drove across town as much as she could before going north towards the chaos she had left behind.
Santana's Grandmother lived in Lima Heights Adjacent, which was in the rougher, poorer side of town. Santana's dad was a Doctor, and had long offered to buy Alma a new house in a nicer neighborhood, (he himself having moved Santana and her mom into the super nice section of town, nicer then Quinn's neighborhood even, but that didn't stop Santana from claiming to be from Lima Heights Adjacent when convenient), but Mrs. Lopez stubbornly insisted she'd lived in that house since she married Santana's grandfather at 18, and she'd die there.
Quinn stared at the road ahead of her grimly. Alma Lopez, and most, if not all of the Lopez family if Santana was correct, had done just that.
The emptiness inside of her, now that she had Beth, that Beth was hers was filled with love for her daughter, and fear.
Fear that she wouldn't be able to protect Beth. Fear that someone will find out what she did, and take Beth. Fear that she'll die, and leave Beth alone.
She didn't even want to think about Santana and Brittany being dead when she got there; that the whole trip to Alma Lopez's home was a waste of time.
Fear edged at her that they were dead, that Mack was dead, that she'd get to the rest stop and everyone there would be dead.
That'd she'd be alone, that she'd be too weak to keep Beth safe by herself.
She shoved the rising panic down, and tried to keep her thoughts blank.
Sighing softly to herself, she turned the last turn down the road at the house was on.
Santana's SUV was crashed in the middle of the road at the streetlight near the front of her grandmother's house, the front doors wide open. Those things, the zombies, were milling around the whole street. At the sight of a moving vehicle, they came shambling towards her.
She pulled behind Santana's SUV, and took a deep breath. She turned, and looked at Beth. Her baby was sleeping, a little frown on her face.
Quinn couldn't take her with her. She'd known that, the whole drive, that she'd be leaving her daughter inside the SUV by herself.
There was no other choice, no matter how much of a bad mother it made her feel like. Stretching, she reached back and put Beth's teddy bear back in her hands, then flung a blanket over the seat and car seat. As long as Beth stayed asleep, she'd be fine.
Quinn tried not to think about what would happen to Beth if Quinn never came back to the SUV. If she was stuck in it, slowly dying by dehydration. And that was assuming the zombies didn't manage to break in, where they'd rip her baby apart -
Quinn took another deep breath, and pushed that thought, that image, out of her mind. She had no choice, but once she rescued Brittany and Santana, Beth would never be left alone again. And she would rescue them. She would.
She opened the door, grabbed her backpack and in one swift motion locked the car up and put the keys safely in her backpack before putting it on.
Pulling the machete out, she ran to Santana's SUV. The zombies growled and moaned, but followed her, ignoring the SUV completely, giving her a glimmer of satisfaction.
There was a dark headed zombie trying to get something in the back in Santana's SUV.
Focusing, she ran to the passenger side and shut the door softly, then ran back around to the driver side where the walker was.
She grabbed it by its pony tail and pulled it out of the SUV and down onto the ground, stabbing it quickly through the eye, then wiping the blade off on it's already gore covered shirt. She let out the breath she was holding in relief when she looked closely at the zombie, and realized it wasn't Santana. It was one of Santana's cousins though. She tried to breath shallowly, as it smelled like death ate vomit then vomited again. There was gunk and gore spattered all over the SUV, which didn't help anything.
The other zombies were still milling around the street, slowly heading towards her, at a pace she could easily just jog away from if needed. She went inside the SUV, pulling the door closed behind her and scooting over to the passenger side, to avoid the walker muck on the driver side.
She took another deep breath, wrinkling her nose at the zombie smell.
She climbed over the seat into the backseat, noting Brittany's four year old sister, Tiffany's car seat was empty, and so was Lord Tubbington's cage.
There was no blood or anything, so that had to be a good sign.
She was mentally gearing up to go inside Santana's grandmother's house when she heard muffled crying.
"Hello? It's Quinn," Quinn said, trying to keep her voice calm. She didn't know if she had it in her to kill Brittany's almost five year old zombie sister.
A blonde head poked up from under a pile of blankets in the cargo area. Lord Tubbington crawled out from under them, a wet spot in his fur from where Tiffany had obviously been crying on him and looked at Quinn. "Quinn?" Tiffany asked, her voice quivering in fear.
"Yeah Tiff, it's me." Quinn said, smiling a tight smile at the girl, then added, trying not to frown, "You're alright, aren't you? No owies?"
"No owies. The monster was trying to get me so I climbed back here with Lord Tubbington so it didn't. She left me. Where's Britt?" The girl asked in her tiny voice with a sob, unable to finish her sister's name.
"In the house. I'll find her and Santana, ok?"
"Ok," Tiffany said, sniffling.
Quinn used her machete to cut the seat belt holding Tiffany's car seat, lifting it up to ensure it was released from its bindings, and did the same with Lord Tubbington's cage.
"Get your backpack honey, ok, and climb over to where I am. We're going to have to run to my car."
"I don't wanna leave my kitty and -" The smaller blonde girl asked as she climbed over the seat, clutching her backpack and stuffed pink unicorn, before Quinn interrupted her. "We'll get you over to my car, then I'll get your stuff and Lord Tubbington ok?"
The girl nodded, holding her unicorn and pulling her Dora the Explorer backpack on as Quinn carefully reached into the cargo area and grabbed a very fluffed up Lord Tubbington, who looked at her with distain as she put him into his cage.
Tiffany huddled against the seat as Quinn located her purple sleeping bag, Dora pillow, and suit case, putting them neatly in the seat next to Tubbington's cage for easy access.
"Alright Tiffany, I'm going to take you and your car seat to my car, then come back and get your stuff and the cat. I'll be as fast as possible ok? I'm going to need you to stay there and not make any noise, can you do that for me sweetie?" Quinn asked, her hand on the door, keys clutched tightly, "You can't make any noise because you'll wake up Beth, or let the monsters know the pair of you are in there?"
Tiffany nodded, her tear stained face serious.
"Alright, let's go." And at that Quinn opened the door silently, and picking the girl up, who obediently wrapped her arms and legs around Quinn. Quinn picked up the car seat by the handle, and crept outside.
It took no more than ten seconds to dash from one car to the other, and perhaps another four seconds to unlocked the door, and then three seconds to shove herself, carrying the girl and car seat, into the car, then flinging the door closed.
In that time, four zombies had stumbled towards them. Quinn could make out others coming towards them, the rest of the zombies on the street.
But these ones were so close she could see them clearly without her contacts in. One of them was one of Santana's aunts, the necklace with her children's birthstones still around her ruined neck, glinting brightly. Her kids were seven, five, three and one, and Quinn couldn't even bring herself to hope they were hiding somewhere. Another was a neighbor that had moved in at the same time Alma Lopez and Santana's grandfather did, she was Alma's best friend, even if neither women would ever admit it. Quinn stared at the curly blue rinsed hair, trying not to look at the black goo seeping from the woman's eyes, remembering how Santana had brought her a baby blanket the woman had knitted for her once news of Quinn's pregnancy had come out. Quinn had labored over a thank you note on Carole Hudson's best stationary for hours, trying to find the way to put the right words down. Quinn swallowed thickly as a traitorous voice inside her was whispering, "If you had gotten up earlier, Santana probably would have invited you here you could have stopped this, you could have saved some of them…"
She pushed those thoughts away; Coach Sue's training or not (and she didn't even remember most of it anyway) she wasn't a super hero, she wasn't responsible for saving or protecting anyone except Beth and now Santana, Brittany, and Tiffany.
She looked at Beth, who was still sleeping and still covered by the blanket, then at Tiffany. Tiffany was alternating looking at her and the zombies with teary eyes, some sort of instinctual primal function inside the four year old keeping her silent as she cried.
She set Tiffany down in the passenger seat, trying to ignore how reluctant the four year old was to let her go, and quickly got Tiffany's car seat buckled in the back behind the passenger side seat. She spared a quick look to make sure Beth was still sleeping, grabbed another blanket and tossed it from the passenger seat to Tiffany's car seat, making a tent. She picked up Tiffany, who put her face against Quinn's shoulder, sobbing a little louder now, then ducked into the small sad blanket tent.
"I know you're scared Tiffany, I am too," Quinn whispered, "I'll be right back with Lord Tubbington, okay?"
With a tear stained face, Tiffany nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as she sat on the floorboard, whimpering.
With one last glance at her daughter, her baby, Quinn slithered back to the front seat. Making sure the machete was strapped tightly to her leg, available when she needed it, and that she had a box of bullets in her coat pocket, with one last check that her Glock was loaded, she slid the backpack off, clutched the car keys, and opened the driver side door, smashing the button to relock all the doors, then closing the door as quietly as she could.
It was clear from the Quinn's SUV to Alma's house, and Quinn took a step forward when, with gritted teeth, she remembered she still needed to get Lord Tubbington. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the machete, and ran towards the first zombie. It looked like it had been a balding accountant before it'd died; except now most of his beer belly was gone, eaten before it had risen, and what wispy blonde hair it had was matted with blood. Keeping out of its reach, once she saw her chance she hit the machete on the side of its head, hard. The machete stuck in the skull a little bit, but did nothing to stop the zombie coming at Quinn.
The force went through her arm, making her teeth chatter and she had to dodge to avoid the zombie that had been Santana's Aunt. She wanted to laugh at herself, as much as she wanted to cry right now, and she pulled the machete out with a frantic tug, then shoved the machete back into its sheath, and kept dodging and weaving from the four zombies, trying not to run too far away from her SUV; barely paying attention to the fact that even more zombies had noticed and were coming towards her. Maybe Shelby had been right, maybe Quinn had watched too many zombie movies; the pink haired girl had thought it'd be like 'The Walking Dead', where the zombie skulls would practically smash themselves if you looked at them hard. But no, the human skull was thick and there was no way, with Quinn's strength and just a machete she was smashing skulls quickly with it while trying to run.
She should have realized that. She should have, and now she was going to get ate by zombies and Santana and Brittany were probably dead anyway and Beth and Tiffany would die slowly in the SUV and she had killed Shelby. Kill Shelby for no reason because she couldn't protect Beth, she can't protect anyone she wasn't good enough and they were all going to die and-
Quinn couldn't catch her breath, and tears in her eyes were making everything blurrier. She turned, trying to get away from the good dozen of zombies now following her, Santana's Aunt leading them, ahead by fifteen feet. Quinn hated herself for not being able to remember the woman's name. The woman was dead, her children, her husband, they were all dead and Quinn couldn't even remember her name. Quinn, her breath hitching, and struggling not to stand still and sob, Quinn was getting slower, getting tired. For a horrible second, she wished she had never gotten out of bed. That she had just stayed there, and slept until her parents went upstairs and ate her.
Santana's Aunt seemed to sense Quinn's speed slowing, that Quinn wasn't dodging as sharp as before, and lunged forward, catching Quinn's wrist with sparkly purple painted nails turned claws.
Snarling, with a grip stronger than it should have been, she pulled Quinn's arm towards her snapping teeth, the dark mauve lipstick smeared on her otherwise untouched face.
Quinn pulled away from her, grabbing for the machete with her other hand. The nails left half inch long scratches along the leather of Quinn's jacket. Quinn pulled the machete out of the sheath on her thigh. The rest of the zombies, trailing Santana's Aunt like ducklings following their mother. Blood thirsty, horrible ducklings out of a horror movie, were only a few feet behind Quinn. Desperate, with a near silent sob Quinn shoved the machete in the woman's face. It hit her eye, and Quinn shoved it harder, trying not to gag at the sound it made going through the woman's eye and into her brain.
The zombie fell, and the grip lessened enough for Quinn to pull her arm away. Quinn stumbled a little on the zombies legs, but managed to catch herself before she fell over, by a gate.
A burst of energy went through her, and she ran through it, the zombies far to close behind her. She ran as fast as she could through the yard, scrambling over the fence into the unfenced yard next door, running back towards the gate, avoiding Santana's Aunt's body, and shoved the gate closed. She pulled her belt off, and belted the gate closed.
She didn't know how long the fence would hold, or if zombies from the rest of the neighborhood would come, but for now the area was clear.
She stood for a moment, catching her breath as relief flowed through her, before jogging back to the SUV's. She threw open the door of Santana's SUV, and grabbed Lord Tubbington's cage (the cat staring stonily at her through the bars), and Tiffany's things, managing to grab Tiffany's stuffed unicorn from the seat.
Several long, hurried steps later she was back at her SUV, with only a brief stop to pick up Tiffany's unicorn that the girl had dropped on the trip to Quinn's SUV. Quinn hadn't noticed, and Tiffany had apparently took Quinn saying to be quiet very seriously, so she didn't say anything either. She managed to push the button to unlock the doors, wincing at the beeping noise the SUV made, and opened the back seat door behind the passenger side, where she had set up Tiffany.
Upon hearing the door open, from under the sad blanket tent, Tiffany whimpered.
"It's okay Tiffany, it's me," Quinn said, feeling like it'd been years since she'd spoken to a living person, and pulled the blanket off, removing the sad tent.
Tiffany stared at her with large, tear filled blue eyes. "I've got Lord Tubbington, and Queenie," Quinn added, nodding at the stuffed pink unicorn balanced, barely, on Lord Tubbington's cage.
Tiffany gave her a small smile, and Quinn leaned into the vehicle, and hefted Tiffany's suitcase in the back. She unrolled Tiffany's sleeping bag, and spread it on the floorboard around Tiffany, then helped the girl take off her backpack. Quinn plumped up Tiffany's pillow, and handed it to the girl, then handed her Queenie, then set Lord Tubbington's cage in the middle of the seat between the two car seats, letting the cat out.
The large cat promptly jumped down onto the floorboard next to Tiffany, curling up next to the girl. She pulled the blanket off of Beth's car seat, relieved to see the toddler was still sleeping deeply. Quinn put the other blanket back up, this time doing a better job of making it a sad tent; she set it over both front seats, and the backseat, tenting both Tiffany and Beth and hopefully keeping anything from paying attention to the SUV. She would have done a better job if she had actually gotten into the backseat, but what she did just leaning into the car would have to do.
"Tiffany, I need you to stay here while I get Brittany, ok? Look, I made you and Beth a tent, you have a pillow and your sleeping bag and you, Queenie, Beth and Lord Tubbington can hang out here while I get them. But you have to be quiet, ok? " Quinn whispered.
"Can I color?" Tiffany asked in a tiny, fearful voice, "My books and crayons are in my backpack."
"Yeah honey you can color. You just have to be quiet and you can't leave your tent. Don't wake up Beth, but if she does wake up, let her color okay? Do you understand Tiffany? Those monsters will get you," Quinn didn't like the harsh tone she had to use, but it was important that Tiffany understand.
Tiffany nodded solemnly, her eyes wide, and clutched Queenie closer, putting a hand on Lord Tubbington.
"Alright, I'm going to get Brittany now," Quinn said, stepping back.
"And Santana?" Tiffany interrupted.
"Yes sweetie, Santana too," Quinn gave the smaller girl a smile she didn't feel inside, and continued, "Remember, don't leave the tent or make any noise ok? I'll be back soon, and we'll get away from the monsters."
Tiffany nodded gravely, and Quinn closed the door.
Somewhere, shoots were being fired. Feeling awful, Quinn sincerely hoped that all the zombies in town went that way, away from them.
The house stood large, dark, and mocking.
Quinn took heavy steps towards it, and found herself on the porch. She stared at the bright red door for a moment, then shakily opened it.
The door creaked open with foreboding. She stepped through it numbly. Holding her breath, she slapped it closed without thinking about it.
As large as the house seemed on the outside, inside it was homey and slightly cramped feeling even with the open floor plan, due to the cluttery knickknacks and overstuffed furniture.
Quinn had always liked it. Even if Santana's grandmother wasn't the nicest person, and she rarely smiled, she always had cookies, a home cooked meal, and helpful if entirely unasked for advice.
Quinn stepped carefully through the hall, alert.
Breathing shallowly again, because she smelled rot and death, she decided to through the house clockwise, starting at the kitchen and ending at the stairs.
Stepping lightly, Quinn walked slowly through kitchen, listening for a sound other then herself.
Even with the light streaming through the closed curtains, the house was dim. Quinn didn't dare turn on any of the lights, partly from worry it would attract attention, partly having it so ingrained from visits to this house to keep the lights off unless it was pitch black outside.
There was a body in the kitchen, a dish towel covering the face.
Blood pooled out and around it, making Quinn glad she was wearing boots. Stepping just outside the pool, she nudged the towel with her toe enough to make sure it wasn't Santana's body.
It wasn't.
Letting out another breath, she circled through the dining room, and then the living room where there were two more bodies, covered up by an ugly blanket that had belonged to a beloved dog long since dead.
These bodies didn't have a blood around them, and were almost lovingly resting on the carpeting.
Holding her breath, machete clutched in one hand, Quinn pulled the blanket off their faces. Quinn recognized them as another one of Santana's aunts, and a cousin.
It was hard to tell, but Quinn was sure they had been dead when they had died…again, and were placed here.
Quinn recovered them.
She stepped a little faster, a little louder, and opened the door to the small family bathroom in the hall next to the stairs.
Empty.
She flicked the strap off the gun holster so she'd be able to reach it easier if needed, knowing she was scared of going up those stairs, about what she might find. Santana had told her where her and Brittany were.
Scared or not, she needed to. Tiffany and Beth were waiting outside. There was no telling what could happen while she was gone.
Letting out another breath she didn't realize she had been holding, she carefully crept up the stairs. As she walked, she avoided looking at the pictures on the wall. So many of Santana's relatives. Pictures she had seen so many times.
The second floor of the house was dimmer then the first, due to less windows. But not dim enough for Quinn to not see the bloody handprint on the door to the master bedroom.
Or the group of walkers hammering the bathroom door, slowly splintering it. It wouldn't be long until whoever was in there was dinner. Quinn had gotten there just in time.
The walkers were all Santana's relatives, including the mistress of the house, no surprise. Quinn stared at the back of her head, tears in her eyes.
She pulled out her gun, and put that one down first.
At the noise, the others turned towards her, probably thinking she'd be an easier meal then Brittany and Santana. If they could think.
One by one they fell, Quinn firing every single bullet in her Glock, hitting maybe half of the walkers in the head. The ones she missed would fall from the bullet, then come crawling towards her.
Those she finished off with her machete, shoving the machete through their eye socket, trying not to throw up.
She stared at the pile of bodies for a moment, looking at one in particular. Santana's six year old cousin, Rosa. Quinn was glad she had gotten her in the head with a bullet, she didn't know if she had it in her to use her machete on sweet Rosa, to use something so up close that Quinn would have to look her in the eyes, now grimy with black goo trailing down from them.
That could have been Tiffany.
Shuddering, Quinn put the gun back in its holster, and stepped over the bodies and went to the bathroom door.
And opened it, machete at the ready. Just in case.
They were in the tub, Santana was standing protectively in front of Brittany, a bath towel rod in her hand that was obviously ripped off the wall.
"Hi," Quinn said, then she threw up all over the bathroom floor. As she threw up, she could feel a hand gently holding back her hair. When she was done, she saw that it had been Brittany. The trio just stared at each other for a few moments, before the Brittany helped Santana out of the tub.
Silently, Quinn stepped around her puke, trying to avoid it, and walked to the sink, rinsing her mouth out a few times with the water, then taking the mouth wash Brittany pulled out of a cupboard and handed her.
When she was done she said, "We need to get out of here, the gun's probably going to call those things from all over the neighborhood. Tiffany's in my car waiting with Lord Tubbington and Beth. She's fine."
Santana wiped away the tears on her face, and lovingly did the same to Brittany, who smiled at her. Whatever had happened to them in this house, it had obviously brought them…closer.
Quinn knew they had been plenty close before, and she was glad for them. A little jealous, a little uncomfortable, but glad for her friends.
Brittany handed Quinn a towel to wipe her face off and said in a hoarse voice, "Is she okay?"
"She's scared, but fine," a surge of anger went through her, and Quinn spat out, "Why was she all alone? If I hadn't gotten here…one of those things almost ate her!" Brittany frowned, and Santana had her hands covering her face. With a start, Quinn realized Santana was crying, silent as tears went down her face.
"Santana." Brittany put a light hand on the dark haired girl's shoulder, still frowning.
Santana clutched Brittany's hand, wiping her tears away with her other hand, and stared at Quinn defiantly, "You saved us Q. We would have died. How long did my dad tell her to put a real, openable window in this bathroom? The roof was right there, but we were trapped. My family….we didn't know if Tiffany was ok, I can't believe we left her in the SUV, but I saw my cousin and crashed and then those things were all around and I just took Brittany and ran into that house, expecting to see my family. All I could think about was saving Brittany, because I love her. I'm in love with her. I'm a lesbian and I'm in love with Brittany S Pierce. "
Quinn snorted, glad to have something that wasn't depressing news, "Like I didn't know that Santana, I've spent enough sleepovers with you guys, haven't I? I didn't always fall asleep first."
"It's not just sex, Quinn. This won't be a problem, right?" Santana stated looking at Quinn seriously.
"No. Unless you leave Tiffany or me or Beth and just save Brittany again without thinking," Quinn said, staring at Santana.
"She won't. She was just so scared that she wouldn't be able to admit to me how she feels, that it isn't just sex" Brittany said quietly, "and if you do it again Santana, no matter how I feel about you I won't ever forgive you for leaving Tiffany or Quinn or Beth? Ok? I'm still mad at you, but I'll forgive you this time."
Santana looked surprised at Brittany's words, sniffled a bit, then said, "Beth? Hold up, Shelby, of all people decided to put her life and the life of your lizard baby in their plan. Really?"
Quinn looked away, "No. I went to check on Beth, and Shelby was bit. Told me to take Beth." Quinn felt like throwing up again, the lie sticking in her throat, "We need to get out of here, they like noise. Santana, I didn't see your little cousins out there," Quinn jerked a nod at the door, a little blossom of hope blooming inside her. If Santana and Brittany had survived, maybe some of the kids had hidden or something.
Santana stared at her, then looked away, "Abuela had put the kids in her room, older ones watching the little ones. They're still in there, with my mo- some adults." No one spoke, and Quinn felt like she'd been hit in the stomach, the sadness thick in the air, before finally Santana said, "I don't know how fast I'll be able to move, I," Santana tossed her hair flippantly, "hit my knee with my baseball bat and it's sore as hell."
Quinn raised an eyebrow at Santana, "What, like you haven't made mistakes before? I was a little distracted by Brittany's parents trying to eat us, and swung then stepped into it."
Quinn rolled her eyes, "If anyone asks, you should say you hit one of those things in the head with your knee. We better get out of here."
With Quinn and Brittany standing on either side of Santana to help her walk, the trio left the house, stopping only for Santana to grab her grandmother's favorite knitted blanket off the couch, her shawl, a couple of pictures off the wall, and the bags her mom had packed from their house for her. They shuffled as fast as they could the Quinn's car while helping Santana. The street was still clear.
Once more, Quinn opened Tiffany's door and moved the tent blanket aside, this time Brittany murmuring to her sister.
"Brittany!" Tiffany exclaimed upon seeing her older sister, utterly forgetting what Quinn had said about being quiet. Quinn recoiled away, and looked around warily, but the streets were still empty. The gun fire Quinn had heard before she went into the house had stopped, and Quinn wondered if the zombies had ate whoever had been firing, and were coming here next.
As Tiffany asked Brittany why she had left her, shivering, Quinn helped Santana into the passenger seat. "Keep an eye out for any of those things, " she muttered once Santana was settled into the seat, "And if you see some, say something instead of grabbing Brittany and leaving," Quinn couldn't help but add meanly, still mad at Santana for just leaving Tiffany.
Santana looked at her with as much remorse as Quinn has ever seen her have, which lasted a few seconds before Santana glared at her then flipped her hair and started watching the street around them.
Quinn heaved the duffle bag, and suit case Mrs. Lopez had packed for Santana to the back of the SUV, hauling them into the cargo area. She jogged back to Santana's SUV, and easily found Brittany's things, and didn't even wonder what was in boxes in the back before she lugged Brittany's things back to her SUV, and fit them in snuggly inside, slamming the hatchback shut when she was done.
Taking deep breaths, Quinn hopped into the driver's seat, shoving her backpack aside, buckled her seat belt, then started the car. She waited a minute for Brittany to move Lord Tubbington's cage and sit in the middle of the seat, and get Tiffany buckled up, then drove away. She ignored the tears in Santana's eyes as the brunette wiped them away, ignored Brittany explaining to Tiffany that their parents had gone away to Heaven and they wouldn't see them for a long long time, and Tiffany's subsequent sobbing. She licked her lips, and reached with one hand into her backpack, searching until she found her ipod. She shoved her mom's iPod out of the way, not noticing as it went under the passenger seat, and plugged in hers in its place. She pressed play, then focused fully on the road and taking deep breaths in time to the beat of No Doubt's "Tragic Kingdom", clutching the steering wheel tightly, the world seemingly fading away except for the road and the SUV.
She had her daughter, and Brittany and Santana were safe. She had come so close to losing them forever. Even when she had went full Skank, even if Santana had enjoyed being top dog for once, they had reached out to her, not giving up on her and their friendship.
Everything would be okay now, they'd get to the cabin and everything, and everyone, would be okay. She had done what she'd needed to do, what she'd had to do, and everything was okay. It had to be.