A/N: Thanks to everyone reading so far! I'm not sure where this is going to end up…but that's part of the fun, right?
"Is someone there?" the small, high voice repeated, and a shadow moved off to their left. Santana had her Glock pointed at chest level, finger on the trigger. A figure stepped in front of them, at first barely discernible in the shadows. Quinn pushed her best friend's hand and gun away as a young girl stepped into a shaft of light.
"Sheva! Jill!" Quinn called, voice strangled as she took in the sight of this girl's injuries. She couldn't have been more than six, her head barely coming to their waists as she reached a mangled and bloodied hand out to them.
"Don't touch her!" Jill yelled as she rounded a corner, and they stepped back quickly, letting the little girl's hand fall back to her side. Her arms and legs were covered with scrapes and bruises. A baseball-sized gash on her neck was oozing freely. Her blonde hair was matted, and her blue eyes clouded as she looked at them.
"Are you here to help us?" she asked, staring at them with a hollow look in her eyes.
"…us?" Jill asked.
"My daddy is here," the girl said, her voice dull. "We were attacked…we came in here to hide but they followed us in. Daddy fought them off but Mommy didn't make it."
Quinn felt her heart twist with sympathy as the girl spoke. She couldn't imagine seeing her mother eaten alive, no matter how many fights she had gotten into with the woman.
"Where is your daddy right now?" Sheva asked quietly, kneeling down to meet the young girl's eyes. She pointed back into the corner, and they followed her limping steps to what looked (and smelled) like a war zone: bloodied carcasses in bits, strewn across the tiled floor. Even in the dim light, Quinn could see the carnage, the remains of seven or eight zombies – she could tell they weren't ordinary people by the pallor of their skin, the strange tilt of their limbs that, even as they lay there, sent a shiver up her spine.
Sitting against the wall was a man, distinguishable from the zombies only by the slight rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were open, but they were clouded, and he was staring off towards the door. He, too, showed signs of having been in a fight, and blood was congealed on his skin from a thick gash on his forearm. He was mumbling to himself, nothing intelligible coming from the low syllables.
The girl knelt down to him, and he looked blankly up to her.
"Daddy, it's okay," she said. "These people are okay."
He showed no sign that he understood, only continued to stare at her. His uninjured arm twitched, as if he wanted to raise it, and she placed a palm on his cheek.
"Daddy, you're still burning up," she said, turning her head to the four armed women behind her. "He got scratched by one of those monsters and now his skin is so hot…but I got scratched, and I feel like I'm cold…and my neck and arms hurt so bad…they sting now."
Quinn's heart twisted. The girl didn't know she had a fever, didn't know she was already infected with the same thing her father was. Whatever this disease was, it moved fast.
"Can you help us?" she asked. Quinn and Santana looked at each other, and then at Jill and Sheva. Their lips were tight, and faces expressionless.
"Please…" the girl said. "My daddy is scaring me. I need him to get better so he doesn't try to hurt me…like…like Mommy did." Her eyes were filling up with tears, and she collapsed into her motionless father's lap with a wail. Quinn felt so helpless, but she didn't want to voice what she was thinking. The man's mumbling was the only thing filling the silence for several moments.
Jill took a deep breath. "I don't know if we can help you. I think…I think it's too late."
The girl cried out again, longer, and her father made a noise too, creating an eerie chord that made the hairs on the back of Quinn's neck stand up.
"Please!" the girl whimpered. "I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want to burn up and die. I don't want to turn into a monster. I don't…I don't…"
"There's only one thing we can do," Jill said slowly. The girl looked up.
"Please…anything."
And the blonde woman raised her handgun. The girl clutched even tighter to her father.
"No…no, there has to be something. Isn't there medicine? A shot? I know I can be good if you give me a shot."
Jill knelt, meeting her gaze. "Hey, listen to me. There is no cure. Not yet. The only way to make sure you don't become one of them is to…well, to kill you before you die of the disease and come back as a zombie. I promise I can make sure you don't hurt anyone if you come back. But your daddy is close to dying, I think. And you're hurt, so I think you're not going to make it. I know it is a harsh reality, but it's the truth."
"Will it hurt when you shoot me? Will it hurt my daddy?"
"…no."
"Okay... Please. Make the pain go away." She closed her eyes. Jill pointed the gun.
"I'm sorry," she said, and with two quick shots, their lives were gone.
As they rose again, hungry for blood, minutes later, Jill disposed of them just as quickly.
Rachel and Brittany walked the halls, aimlessly exploring to keep their minds off of the dangerous mission Quinn and Santana had volunteered for. They each knew it was useless to beg their partner to stay – Q and S had made it a mission to protect R and B. But the latter two didn't know why the former two needed to be so damn gung-ho about it.
Still, Rachel thought, Jill and Sheva seem like they are seasoned fighters. They'll be safe. She and Britt had wandered up to the top floor, and were stopped in front of a window looking down onto the lawn. She sighed and put her shoulder on the tall blonde's shoulder.
Everything will be okay, she thought. The past few months had been incredibly hard on her. She had never seen death, never experienced true pain. And all of a sudden the world crumbled, and they were hiding out in Santana and Brittany's hot apartment, trying to survive.
If it wasn't for Quinn's steady and calm presence, she was almost sure she would have gone mad by now.
"Hey, you two!" came a call from behind them. They turned to see Josh jogging up the steps behind them. He smiled. "You doing all right?" They nodded tentatively. "Eh, don't lie. I know you're worried," he said. "How about you follow me and we can find you both something to do?"
And so they turned from the window and tried to shake their fears as Josh led them to an area over by the staircase, where a ladder reached up to the roof. He gestured to it.
"Some of the Secret Service are still here with us. I figured you could meet them and possibly learn some surveillance tactics while you are here. That sound like something you can handle?"
"Like shooting?" Brittany asked. "I'm okay at that."
Josh grinned again. "Right, we need to keep those dirty bastards away from here, and also look for signs of survivors nearby. So you'll be using rifles if you see any of 'em. The Service does a good job of watching our backs if we're exploring."
"So why weren't they shooting at the undead chasing us when we were coming in this way?" Rachel asked.
Josh furrowed his brow, standing with one foot on the ladder. "They were probably focused elsewhere…or they just figured you would be all right with Chris. For all we know, they were providing cover fire behind you." He nodded and disappeared up to the roof. With a glance at Rachel, Brittany followed him. The brunette sighed.
Might as well.
If she hadn't known there were zombies all over the streets, Rachel might have assumed this was just a normal day in the life of the Secret Service. The officers were perched on stools and chairs across the roof, each with their SIG pistol at their waist and some sort of long-range weapon in hand. Three women and seven men, all well-dressed, with their sunglasses on. They looked quite professional, even sweating in the late afternoon sun.
"Hey, I brought some new recruits!" Josh called, and Rachel instantly felt self-conscious about her dirty ponytail, t-shirt and shorts as the Service members turned to size them up. Brittany, on the other hand, smiled and waved at them.
"Hello!"
One or two of them smiled, but the others remained impassive. Rachel supposed that they were taking this new "mission" extremely seriously, and had vowed to protect the White House for as long as they lived.
"This is Rachel, and this is Brittany." Josh continued. "The other two young women Chris picked up are with Jill and Sheva, scouting supplies."
"We saw them leave," one of the men said. "I'm watching for their return."
"Thank you," said Josh. "I thought that these two may want to see your operation. Could anyone spare a few seconds to show them a thing or two?"
"I will," the man who had just spoken said with a smile. The redheaded woman standing next to him nodded, so they walked over. Rachel's heart was pounding. Josh moved to the other end of the roof to talk with some of the other people.
"I'm Trayvon," the man said, shaking their hands individually with a grin. "This is my partner, Jenna."
"Nice to meet you," said Jenna. "You just got here, basically, right?" They nodded. "Well, there are always some of us up here looking out, so don't worry about being attacked while you are here. About 40 of us remained in the city to protect President Obama and his family, and the other government workers in the area." She sighed. "We lost 12 of our friends at the Service, and a lot of other people. But those of us left are here at the House, working with Chris's team to fight the infected while we look for some answers."
"Right," Trayvon said. He dropped his voice "And between us, there are quite a few of us who feel guilty that their friends died, or that a government agent died on their watch. Some of the Service are up here all day and night, in the hopes that every zombie they kill will help ease the pain of this experience." He shook his head. "It has been hard on all of us. No doubt that it has been for you, too," he said.
"So you can shoot the zombies from up here?" Brittany asked.
"Well, with this gun I have here I can reach anywhere from 600 to over 2,000 meters, depending on the bullets," Jenna said. "It's useful for scoping out the area in places that binoculars can't quite reach."
"Wow."
"Do you have any experience with guns?" she asked them.
"Uh. A little, but mostly up-close," the blonde responded.
"Well, here," Jenna said, and handed Brittany her rifle. Britt took it, slowly, and held it tight. "Hold it up so you're looking through the scope…there you go. See anything?"
"Whoa!"
"Yeah?"
"That restaurant is like half a mile away but I can read the sign!" Brittany sounded fascinated as she peered through the telescope.
"Do you see any zombies?" Trayvon asked. "Look around a bit, but be careful you're not pointing it at us!"
Brittany moved a bit. "Yeah, I see one."
"Can you hit it?"
She paused, then pulled the trigger.
"I got it!" she crowed, lifting her head with a grin. "Right in the head."
"Well done!" Jenna said. "You know to hit them right in the brain, then? Quickest way to down one." The both nodded.
"Rachel, do you want to try? You're welcome to hang up here with us when we're on duty," Trayvon said." The brunette bit her lip and studied the large gun that was being offered to her.
"I, uh…"
"Don't want to? That's fine," he said. "We're up here every day if you change your mind."
"Thank you…"
A shout came from behind them, and all four whipped around.
"Hey! Sheva and Jill are coming back!" one of the other officers yelled.
Rachel and Brittany shot each other a look.
"Go on, we'll catch you later!" Jenna said as Josh beckoned to them.
"Come on, girls." He said. "Let's go see what they found."
