The inevitable happened when we ran out of options in the middle of nowhere. We didn't have any water left. We were running out of gas and our nerves were on the edge, even more than usually. We argued back and forth what to do when Quinn started to yell at Rachel. Quinn never yelled and she never yelled at her girlfriend. When Rachel's jaw tightened and she fell completely silent all of us were certain we had reached the bottom. We were now desperate enough to head for the next village.
"Let's not fight." Rachel finally said and it sounded ridiculously calm. "We have to stick together." I took Britt's hand and nodded. Quinn and Rachel seemed like polar opposites but they really had a lot more in common than anyone could have guessed.
If you are alive to read this you know there won't be any vicious zombies in here. It wasn't that kind of disease that carried off everyone we had ever known. People started to cough as if they had caught a harmless cold. After a few days they'd spit blood and their skin would gradually turn grey. Some of them lived on for weeks, others died after only a couple of hours. It was random. It was very unspectacular, quiet, not the kind of apocalypse you get to see in movies. One by one, cough by cough, humankind quit existing, just like that.
For a while we had followed the news over the only radio channel that seemed to still be on air. But when the host sneezed into the mic Britt had turned the radio off without saying a word and we never switched it back on.
It took us longer to start driving again than it took us to get somewhere. The place we reached seemed completely deserted. There was a shit load of garbage scattered all over the narrow roads and with each time the car jumped a little my stomach tightened from the possibility that we could have hit another body. Britt had opened the windows just to shut them again immediately. The odor creeping through the little opening was unbearable. It smelled like death. This village was about to break all of our taboos.
Not one of the houses seemed undamaged. Without a doubt scavengers had come before us and taken everything that wasn't nailed to the floor. Most windows were broken and quite a few buildings had been burned to the ground. It was an addition to the collection of stories we'd never tell. I had read about scenarios like this one in books: people fighting each other instead of sticking together in a desperate attempt to be the last person standing when everyone else was dying; people slaughtering their friends and stealing each others' belongings to feed themselves; maybe even cannibalism. Starvation and the complete lack of rules or anyone to enforce them turned human beings into madmen. Women and children were usually the ones to die first.
Rachel snuggled up to Quinn who wrapped her arms around the shorter girl. I reached out and stroked Britt's hair and smiled at her the best I could. I loved all three of them too much to let those horrible things happen to us. We would never turn into such monsters. We would never break apart and lose our humanity. I would have rather killed myself than to risk losing my family. I would have done everything to keep all of us alive.
One thing was clear, though: None of the abandoned homes would have running water. Quinn took Rachel's hand and squeezed it so hard the brunette had to bite her lip in order not to cry out in pain. Brittany's face remained calm. I'm sure she was dissociating again, dreaming herself away to a better place; basically anywhere but there. It was an ability I had always envied a little.
"There's a gas station."
Rachel's finger pointed to a sign not far ahead of us. Not that her declaration had been necessary, but in that very moment her voice was a welcome distraction from the silence surrounding us. The sun was about to set and we needed to find a place to sleep soon. When Britt placed a soft kiss on my shoulder I sighed and missed our bed back home more than ever.
As I pulled over into the parking lot something felt off and it wasn't until Rachel rose her voice again that I understood what it was.
"Guys, it's lit."
We had grown so used to being around no one that the prospect of meeting someone was nothing more than a fleeting idea. Other people only existed in the fairy tales we never told each other. Not once did we mention anyone we'd drive past. Everyone along the road was dead, if not in reality then at least in our heads. They were carriers and would die sooner or later. Humans imposed a threat to our vows and our health. Just like we had stopped existing when we left home all these weeks ago, human life had quit existing for us. It had always been just the four of us. That's the way it was supposed to be: just us and the road.
We sat there still for what seemed to be hours and I'm confident we were all thinking the same thing.
"I'll go."
It was the sentence that sealed Rachel's fate.
I will never forget the expression on Quinn's face when Rachel died. Her eyes died together with her girlfriend and her face never seemed to regain its color; as if her blood had forever been frozen now that Rachel wasn't there to give her heart a reason to beat. We all died with Rachel then. It should have been the four of us, together forever.
"I'll go."
I wanted to shake my head and say no. Sometimes I still wake up, objecting to Rachel's suggestion. In my dreams she stays with us. I lock the doors and drive on and we find water and gas somewhere else. At night we're back together on the road as a family. We are happy.
Instead I just sat there like a statue made of stone and I didn't say anything. I didn't even look up and I didn't listen to the whispered argument on the backseat. We needed water. And one of us had to be bold enough to go get it. All these times out there hunting I had always killed, but I had never put my own life at risk. I felt brave for ending countless lives when in reality I was a coward. I'm ashamed to admit that a part of me even was glad that it hadn't been Brittany who offered to go.
I swallowed hard when I heard the back door being slammed shut. I grabbed the wheel so hard my knuckles turned white and I could feel Quinn's stare drilling holes into my neck. I will never know if she blamed me for what happened. If she did, she never led on. Even in her bitter times, even on the day the unthinkable happened, even when she started to cry and we realized it was over for us, even then she never burdened me with shame. We all knew this wasn't the time to fight each other. We all knew everyone else was doing their best to keep the family alive.
Somewhere deeply buried in the back of my head I think that her love for me never wavered. It's another cross I'll have to bear, because if it had been the other way around, if it had been Britt and not Rachel, I'm not sure what I would have done. But Quinn and Rachel they were too kind to let their fear out on anyone but themselves. They were years ahead of me and they will probably always be, even though they now will never have the chance to grow old together. They will never marry and they will never come home to each other again. They will never be pulled down into hugs and kisses by their children. Never again will they eat ice-cream or hear the spine of a new book crack as they first open it. They will never again feel their palm prickle at that very moment when you open a bottle of fresh mineral water and thousands of little bubbles shoot to the surface, making the glass vibrate ever so slightly. Rachel will never star on Broadway and Quinn will never become a journalist. They will never have anything to look forward to.
But then, neither will I.
When Rachel returned she wasn't alone. She was followed by a tall slim guy, approximately our age. He had a mohawk and a shotgun. The latter was pressed firmly into Rachel's back. I was still clutching the wheel when he knocked on the front panel. "Open up."
Britt and I exchanged looks, but Quinn opened her door without missing a beat.
He seemed tough, but was a real weakling. He hid behind his weapon, because he knew he couldn't take the four of us at once. There was a constant tremble in his voice which I didn't quite understand until I saw the blonde girl with the bloody dust mask peeking through the door from inside the store. She must have been three or maybe four years old. Poor girl. She was way too young too understand any of this. She was doomed to die before she was given the chance to start a collection of memories and stories. She was too little to mourn all her chances, everything she'd never do and see and experience.
"Beth, go back inside." The guy yelled.
Then turning to us: "I'm Noah."
Noah was the first person I'd have to kill, but unfortunately he wouldn't be the last.
"Look." he said, "All I want is the car to get out of here with my daughter. I won't hurt any of you if you just give me the car. There's food and water inside. You can have it all."
Brittany started to reason with him and with Quinn and Rachel talking simultaneously no one had noticed Beth approaching until she was standing right in front me, looking up with big eyes. Times were tough and sad and bitter and she was sick and yet, there she stood in front of me, smiling. She was just a kid, greeting strangers and she wasn't afraid of anything, as she had never experienced tragedy. Noah had obviously done a good job in keeping her safe. It broke my heart.
I hadn't started arguing with the others. The old Santana would have gone mad. She would have yelled and cried and done something stupid to gamble away all her chances. But the new Santana was calm and planned ahead. Within just a few weeks I had turned into a silent hunter, observing instead of rushing forward.
Beth reached her little fingers out into my direction and I did the only thing I could think of that moment: I grabbed her hand and pulled her towards me, pressing the knife I was carrying to her throat. I didn't think I was able to hurt a person, let alone a helpless child, but desperate people have been known to render desperate deeds. I had to try and save my family. So I made my face a cold mask once again and bluffed. I heard Quinn gasp and felt Brittany's eyes on me as I stood there, doing something I knew I'd hate myself for later.
Noah dropped his gun immediately and kicked it into my direction, lifting both his hands into the air while his eyes were pleading with me. I picked up the weapon and let the now crying girl go. Without noticing I had cut her neck, just slightly, just enough to let a tiny bit of blood emerge and drop onto my knife. I threw it as far as I could, knowing it was now infected.
With a coughing and crying and trembling Beth in his arms Noah shot me a glance I had never seen before on anyone. It was more than just anger, more than desperation. Noah was furious. At this moment when our eyes met we both knew we were equal, but never even. I knew he'd come to take revenge. I didn't blame him then and I don't blame him now. If anything I wish I'd get the chance to apologize for what I did.