Rachel isn't quite sure why Quinn wanted to come with them. It's not as though she particularly likes Rachel nor is she actually close to Noah any longer but she wasn't going to argue with her. If she wanted to come with them rather than head off to the school with Kurt and his family that was fine. It was her prerogative. And if something bad happened? Well, all Rachel could hope was that she had enough bullets in her gun to keep them safe.
She's pretty sure she should find how easily Noah manages to get them into the store rather scary. The alarm system doesn't even go off when they get inside and she's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But she simply counts her blessings because the sound could attract them a lot of unwanted attention.
She moves around the store, glancing over her shoulder at both Quinn and Noah as she moves through the store. They each pick up various things. Quinn picks up sleeping bags and blowup pillows which Noah brings out to the truck without so much as a word. He somehow- she doesn't ask- managed to get into the case where they keep all of the knives and got a few of them. And she picks up other necessities- flashlights, camping cookware, plates and batteries and all manner of things that seemed stupid but were going to become necessary.
She and Quinn are combing back into the store after depositing their last bunch of stuff into the bed of the truck when Rachel realizes she has no idea where Noah is. She knows he's not stupid enough to wander off on his own but that doesn't stop the panic from coursing through her. She can't see him and she doesn't hear him at first. She doesn't hear anything. And then she hears a clunking in the back, her hand instantly going to the gun in her waistband. "Rach!" She lets out the breath she doesn't even realize she's been holding when she hears him call her name, her hand easing away from the gun.
She makes her way to the back of the store where she heard his voice coming from and finds him standing near the gun counter. She never understood why they sold guns in that store, why the camping gear wasn't income enough but she never thought to ask. And she's honestly glad that at that point that they did sell weapons. Noah's hand is resting on the edge of one of the glass cases, an axe resting just in front of his fingertips. "Take your pick, Berry."
"I don't think I want to know just how mastered the art of picking locks, Noah."
"No," he agrees, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "You really don't want to know." The look on his face makes the corners of her mouth twitch slightly with the desire to smile but she refrains given the dire situation they're in. "So, what do ya say? Think we should stock up on weapons and ammo and shit? Smart thing to do, right?"
"Quite smart indeed." She does smile then, a sort of proud smile that flickers across her face so quickly he's not even sure he sees it but in the end he knows it's there. "Ammunition is definitely a good idea. I don't think we would need too many guns if we have enough ammunition. Perhaps a few more." Pausing she glances over her shoulder to where Quinn is standing, running her fingers along one of the displays. "Perhaps we should get a small caliber one for Quinn. I can show her how to fire it when we're not so out in the open."
"Can't be that hard."
"If you're not used to the backfire it can knock you off of your feed and that's counterproductive given the circumstances we're in." Looking back at him she arched an eyebrow. "I suppose you're going to be getting a gun for yourself as well?"
"Do you even have to fucking ask?"
"Do you know how to fire one?"
"If it means not getting eaten by a zombie? I'll learn fast."
Rachel almost smiles again and turns her head to look over at where Quinn is standing. "Quinn? Can you get one of those metal tackle boxes in the other isle? I'm going to get a duffel bag. Maybe two."
The blonde glances over at her, both of her eyebrows arched. "You're thinking about fishing? At a time like this? You don't even eat fish."
"No, we just need the box. For storage."
"Oh." Quinn nods thoughtfully as though the thought makes perfect sense and then, quite to the surprise of Rachel, simply goes to retrieve the aforementioned box. The fact that she doesn't question it doesn't slip past Rachel who merely raised both of her eyebrows in question before disappearing down the nearby isle to find where the duffle bags are.
She gets back to the counter shortly after Quinn, looks at the metal box sitting on the glass case. For a moment the guilt of stealing things gets to her but, well, desperate times really do call for desperate measures and as such she really has no choice but to suck it up and stop feeling guilty. Survival of the fittest and all that. The people who are the most resourceful were bound to fair a great deal better in all of this than the ones who weren't.
She puts the two bags down on the counter then steps around it so she comes up next to Noah. Heat is radiating off of him like a human heater and were in colder she could have appreciated it. At the moment it just makes her anxious. "Noah? Take one of the duffle bags and put a couple of the larger caliber weapons into it. The hunting rifles. They won't necessarily be as effective but they're better for at a distance."
She expects a big protest when he looks at her but she doesn't get one. His gaze levels on her for a few moments before he takes the gun he had been rolling around in his hands onto the counter and takes one of the bags to go do what she asked. The gun is bigger than the one Rachel has but he's a much bigger person so that makes sense. She glances at him as he walks away and then turns the tackle box towards her, makes sure it's empty and deposits the gun into it.
"And what should I do while you two play militia?"
Brown eyes meet hazel. "Pick a gun." The gazes remain locked for a while before Quinn lowers her eyes and looks down at the counter.
The blonde takes her bottom lip between her teeth, chews on it thoughtfully as she looks at the guns behind the glass. She's never had a reason to consider a gun before. Why would she have? It wasn't as though Lima was actually a very dangerous place. Of course she knew logically that things could happen even in a basically safe town but that doesn't mean she ever had a reason to handle a gun or consider handling a gun. And she doesn't even want to consider handling one then because it seems so stupid. She knows she probably doesn't have a choice in the matter though giving everything involved. Though she really wasn't quite sure she bought the whole zombie apocalypse thing. She was starting to believe it though.
"I've never handled a gun before," she admitted a bit uneasily, resting one hand on the glass counter and brushing her fingers over it leaving smudges in its wake. "I don't know anything about guns." She wouldn't know one model from another even if her life depended on it. And she wouldn't know how to fire a gun whether she wanted to or not. With her luck she'd probably shoot herself in the foot. It wasn't exactly a comforting thought.
"When we get a chance I'll teach you how to fire one. My fathers taught me how to in case I should ever need to use a gun. It's come quite in handy today." Her fathers never thought she would need gun training for something like this though. She was sure of it. She also was sure that they never thought she would have to kill them. Not that they were actually alive to begin with. They were dead before she had to bash their heads in the way she did. But a part of her, deep down inside, still felt like she had killed her own fathers. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
"I just don't know…"
"Here." Moving back over to the case Rachel reached inside. She sort of wondered if Noah picked the lock or not. It was definitely possible that he had. And she couldn't find herself objecting to that given the circumstances. "I'd suggest a Smith & Wesson Centennial 442 Airweight. It's small enough for a woman to handle. It shouldn't give you too much backfire. You'll still get some but it shouldn't knock you off of your feet." Not if she was trained properly. And while she knew that it would be hard she could at least give her the chance to learn how to fire the gun without causing damage to people she didn't want to shoot.
Taking the gun out Rachel lays it on the counter and watches as Quinn picks up the gun like it's going to jump off of the counter and bite her. She can't blame the girl. She really can't because it has to be intimidating to know that she has to go and take a gun, that she has to learn to fire it, that she has to learn to defend herself with it because of the way the world has fallen into chaos. She doesn't blame Quinn for being uneasy. If you've never fire a gun before starting isn't an easy idea.
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" It's a rhetorical question and Quinn is positive Rachel knows that but she still looks up at her like she's hoping Rachel will tell her that she has another option. But she knows she doesn't. If things are really that dangerous then she has to be prepared just in case. She has to be prepared to possibly fire her gun even if she doesn't like it.
For a handful of seconds Quinn just looks at Rachel before she nods her head just a little and rolls the gun in her hand, examines it like she wants to memorize every part of it. Then she puts it down on the counter and nods just a little bit as if telling her that she understands that she needs to have the gun. She registers Rachel picking up the gun and loading it. She barely even pays attention while the brunette fills up the tackle box and then slides the gun back to her.
"Might want to not fire that fucking thing unless you got no choice," Puck says as he comes back over to the counter, the duffle bag hiked up on his shoulder. He doesn't fucking trust Quinn with a gun if she doesn't know how to fire it and no way the blonde princess knows how to fire a damn gun. No fucking way does she know how to handle it. She can probably learn but she doesn't know yet. He's sure of that.
"I'll teach her how to fire," Rachel assures him as she closes up the tackle box. She barely even bats an eyelash when Noah reaches out and picks it up. She sort of expected that he would do that because he's a lot stronger than either of the girls. He seemed to be taking to the protective male thing a bit which shouldn't surprise her. It's actually pretty amusing but she doesn't smile or laugh. It's not the right time.
Rachel watches as Quinn tucks the gun into her purse- how she still has it the brunette will never know and then she grabs the bag she had on the counter and without so much as another word she follows after Noah, makes sure Quinn is with them because she doesn't want anyone to be alone.
It doesn't take that long to actually put everything together in the truck. They load it all into the bed and Noah picks a gun out of the tackle box and before he can even attempt to do anything with it Rachel is taking it out of his hand and putting bullets into the chamber. She feels his eyes on her the whole time but she doesn't look up at him. She feels like if she does he'll have a look on her face that will make her hands shake and make her mess up with the loading of the gun. He's good at giving her looks that sort of makes her feel like her stomach is doing strange flip-flops. He's got quite an intense gaze when he wants to.
Puck has barely taken the gun back from her when he hears something in one of the stores behind him. It sounds like a shelf is falling over and his head whips around into that direction. He just stands there, his hand tight on the butt of the gun as he looks and really? He just wants to go back into the truck and get the fuck out of there. What's the point in checking out a random store? Why go looking for more trouble than they're already in? But oh, no, that's not a fucking option because Rachel is already heading towards the store with her gun raised and he curses under his breath because of course she wants to fucking investigate. And it's not like he's about to let her go alone.
He's following behind her with the gun in his hand. He's not really sure he knows what he's doing with it but whatever. He's not about to let her go alone. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're going to check out a strange sound? Don't you watch fucking horror movies? You never go to check out a strange sound. Good way to fucking die. Or, you know, get eaten."
"Then why are you following me, Noah?"
"Like I'm gonna fucking let you go in there on your own. If you get fucking eaten because I didn't follow you then I'm going to have fucking nightmares of your damn throat getting eaten out. No fucking thank you." Puck looks over his shoulder towards the truck and watches as Quinn steps into the truck. He's pretty sure she's locking the doors. He wouldn't blame her.
"So nice to know you care." Rachel knows her voice is coming out dry but that's because she's focusing on the task at hand. It's a pet store which shouldn't be intimidating but in this situation it is. Because she has no idea what she's going to encounter when she gets in there. The windows are broken in, the class of the door is broken in, too. She wishes she could say she was sure that it wasn't zombies that did that but she can't say for sure.
She stops about two feet from the door, maybe a little bit more as she takes a deep breath, keeps her gun lifted up to keep it level so that if anything moves she can fire. If necessary. But she looks at Noah as if silently asking him if he's ready. But how can you be ready for something like that? How can you be ready to go into a store that is possibly full of zombies? But if he doesn't want her to go into the store alone then he doesn't want her to go into the store alone. And she honestly appreciates the report.
By the time she heads into the store she can feel herself anxious; she can feel a cold sweat breaking out over her brow. She's nervous and she's pretty damn scared. She really is. But she can't let it show. She really can't. Because if she lets her guard down, if she lets it show? It'll make her vulnerable.
All of the shelves are turned over. The register is on the floor and the merchandise is everywhere. There is broken glass on the floor and the fish tanks are smashed up, the water all over the floor, the fish lying there dead. The cages where the birds once resided are dented and the birds are gone. It's scary to see the whole pet shop is such disorder. It's sad to see the whole thing having fallen apart that way. It was supposed to be a happy place. It really, really was. And now it's a mess.
Something moves and Rachel points her gun but it's not until she has the gun pointed that she sees what it is. It's a kitten. It's a tiny little kitten. Noah curses rather loudly and she lets out this slow, shuddering breath that's sort of laugh before she crouches down and picks up the little gray kitten in her free hand. She's quite glad she didn't fire that gun because if she fired the gun and ended up hurting or killing that little kitten she wouldn't have ever been able to forgive herself.
"There's no way that cat made that sound," Noah hisses at her though there's no real malice in his voice. He doesn't sound angry at all. He sounds like he's warning her which she can understand. They need to be careful, they need to be cautious. She can't blame him for that. She would rather he be cautious than reckless given the circumstances. If he got reckless there could be a lot of pain and blood and violence, death. She's glad he's being on the money. She's very, very glad that he's being careful so that people won't get hurt. It's sort of nice to see him being protective.
"Maybe a shelf was settling and hit into another one," she suggests in a whisper, holding the little kitten close to her chest. She's not really sure why she's holding the kitten so close to her, only that it's a very real and very nice reminder of life in the world and she's thankful for that given the insanity and the death all around them. Or, well, not necessary death but people that were dead and are coming back. And having that little kitten close to her feels nice.
"Maybe," Noah agrees though she's not quite sure he actually believes it. He doesn't sound very convinced and she can't blame him for that. Better to be safe than sorry and all that. Her mind goes to Quinn back outside and she hopes that she's alright out there. She's sure Quinn is going to be careful but she can't say for sure. Nothing was certain just then.
Rachel opens her mouth to say something, to say that they can leave but then there's another sound. There's another sound, something shifting and her mouth closes. She holds the kitten closer to her like it's going to help her even though she knows it's ridiculous. But she lifts her gun back up and points it towards the back of the store. She's not sure what's there and she's got this fear curled up deep in the pit of her stomach and she is afraid her hand is going to start shaking. But she keeps it steady, she keeps it level.
Noah hasn't lowered his gun at all. Even when the kitten came out he kept his gun up like he was sure that wasn't the only thing that was moving in there and it turned out he was right. But she's still not sure what's in there. It could be another animal, a bigger one. It could be a zombie or it could be a living person. She has no idea what's back there. And the fact that she had no idea was making her extremely nervous. Not that the whole situation didn't make her nervous. If it didn't? Well, that would mean she was going numb and if she went numb? Well, who knew what would happen.
Noah moves, heading towards the fallen shelves like he's going towards the back of the store and Rachel wants to tell him not to risk it but she doubts he would listen to her. Of all the things Noah did well taking advice wasn't always one of them and the machismo thing didn't help, men feeling the need to be the protectors and all of that. She supposed she understood it. Fundamentally they were larger than women, stronger. It made sense that they should think they had to be the protectors. It doesn't mean that she likes the stereotypes any though.
"Noah…" Her voice comes out much softer than she thought it would but he just waves a hand at her as if telling her that she should keep quiet. She doesn't appreciate being waved off that way but she also understands that he's trying to concentrate so she can't be all that mad. If it was for different reasons then she would be rather pissed indeed.
Something moves again and her heart feels like it's in her throat. Her tension must be enough to emanate from her body because the little kitten tenses in her arms. She tries to calm down enough to stop the kitten from being upset, from tensing too much. She doesn't want the kitten to panic and try to squirm free, maybe scratch her to death, maybe run off and get itself killed. So she holds it tighter and tries to calm herself down at the same time. It's not an easy thing to accomplish.
"Be careful." She knows she should be quiet but at the same time she can't stop herself from trying to remind Noah not to do anything stupid. The last thing that she wants to do is to see him get killed. She doesn't want to see him dead. She doesn't want to have to put a bullet in his head. And if he gets bitten and she's there? Well, she'd have no choice but to put a bullet into his head and she really, really doesn't want to do that. She'll do it if she has to. She just doesn't want to think about that possibility.
"Rachel?"
Her eyebrows furrow at the sound of the voice, a voice most definitely not belonging to Noah. He's a lot of things but feminine sounding isn't one of them. And that's most definitely a feminine voice. Her gun wavers for a moment. She was pretty positive that those things didn't know how to talk. Or, rather, that they couldn't talk any longer. It would go against all logic if they could suddenly talk. Wouldn't one of them have spoken before then? Not that she had encountered that many of them but the point still remained that it seemed unlikely.
There was another sound and Noah's gun didn't waver. Not even as a blonde head appeared behind the shelves. It isn't until the face becomes clear that he lowers his gun. "Shit." Noah lowers his gun and runs his free hand over his face. "Fucking hell."
"Brittany?" Rachel lets out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. The blonde girl is standing behind the shelves, her huge cat clenched tightly in her arms. What she's doing back there isn't anything she can even begin to explain or understand. It doesn't make any sense that she would be there. Well, it only does because Brittany has such love for her cat.
The blonde smiles slowly, hugs her cat closer to her chest and turns slightly. "Rory! It's Rachel and Puck. It's okay. You can come out." It isn't until the brunette boy stands up that Brittany turns to look at them again.
"Brittany…" Rachel adjusts the kitten in her arm. "What are you doing in here?"
"I came here to get things for Lord Tubbington. It was empty and those things came. We hid in the back room. They couldn't get in the door. Rachel, what are those things?"
"They…" How was she supposed to really explain what they were? It isn't like saying they were rabbits or anything quite that simple. "They're nightmares, Brittany. Are you okay? Are either of you hurt?"
"We're okay." Leave it to Brittany to be smiling like that with everything going on in the world just then. Only Brittany could be that cheerful at a time like that. Only Brittany could be so innocently naïve when the world was falling apart around her. Sometimes she wishes she could be more like Brittany, she could more easily see the light in things. She really and truly wished for that sometimes. But sometimes she figured it was good to see the dark in life, too. Because at least then she could be prepared for the bad.
Hugging the kitten closer to her Rachel shifts her grip on the little animal as she looks at Brittany and Rory standing there in the mess of a pet shop. Her gaze moves to Noah as he tucks his gun into his waistband. His gaze meets her and for a few beats they just look at each other before Rachel clears her throat and looked back at the other two people in the room. "We should go," she finally says. "We're meeting with Kurt and his parents at the school. Quinn is waiting in the truck."
"Quinnie is here?" The smile on Brittany's face widens and she looks at Rory as if checking to see if he shares her excitement over Quinn being there. It's sort of adorable to look at. But Rachel can understand being excited that her friend is alive. The others? Well, they don't know who else is alive. She does hope that others are going to start popping up out of the woodwork so to speak.
"She is," Noah confirms with a quick nod of his head. "We can't stay in here long. It's not safe. You two should come with us." For all of his attitude, the truth is? He really cares about whether or not those people live or die. He isn't that willing to admit it out loud but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. He's always going to care.
"Where are we going?" Brittany starts to step around the counter but stops to look at Rory. The brunette boy looks at her for a moment and then seems to understand what the look is for and he crouches down, picks up a box that has a few supplies in it that Rachel can only assume are for the cat.
"We're meeting Kurt and his family at the school," Rachel tells her as the two of them step around the counter. Putting her gun back into her waistband she reaches up with her now empty hand and scratches the cat in her hand behind the ear. "Noah?" Turning her head she looks at him, her eyes sort of wide and vulnerable. "Do you think you can take some things back to the truck for this kitten?"
Noah looks at her like she just lost her mind. "What?"
"I'm not going to leave this innocent little kitten to get eaten. They'll eat anything that's living. And I can't have this little kitten in my arms here and then just let it go to get eaten." She pouts at him, if even tempted to start quivering her bottom lip at him just so that she could get him to agree to do that for her.
She doesn't have to quiver her bottom lip though. Instead she just ends up smiling because he moves around the counter and crouches down to get supplies for the kitten, grumbles underneath his breath as he grabs a bunch of things- a little box, a bowl, some litter, food. He sticks everything in the box and stands up, moves to head out of the store but stops, and grabs a deconstructed carrier that they'll have to put together in the end. She lifts the kitten up and presses her face against it to hide her smile.
"You're a royal pain in the ass," he mutters as he comes up next to her. "And you're going to have to cover us."
"I can do that." She takes her gun out of her waistband and then heads towards the front of the store and slowly makes her way out, gun at the ready just in case. The coast is clear for now so she just makes her way to the truck, keeps her gun steady and knocks on the driver's side window with the butt of it when she gets there.
Quinn turns her head sharply at the sound and looks carefully to make sure she knows who is there before she unlocks the doors and shoves the driver's side open. "All clear, I take it?"
"You could say that. We have a couple of tagalongs though."
"I can see that." The blonde's eyes go to the kitten in Rachel's arm and then back up to the brunette's face, her eyebrows both arching. "A kitten?"
"The vegan in me can't leave it to die." She steps back from the truck so that she can watch Noah and Rory load the cat supplies in the bed with the rest of the stuff they go. Noah's just locking up the back when something catches her attention, movement down the street. At first she isn't sure what it is. There's no way to be sure until whatever it is enters her line of vision. But once it does she knows instantly by the jerky movements it's one of those things.
"Guys, get in the truck," she urges. "Get in the truck now. Right now." Out of the corner of her eye she sees Noah turn to look at her but she's already moving around the back of the truck to go to the passenger's side, gun pointed at the thing. Its head turns, its face half gone, a mess of blood and flesh like something either smashed into it or bit its face off. She isn't sure she wants to know which.
Quinn opens the passenger's side door and Brittany rushes in followed by Rory. The brunette boy reaches for Rachel's arm but she just thrusts the kitten into his arms and closes the door. If she fires the gun with that cat in her arms she'll scare it half to death. And the thing is coming towards the truck now so she knows she has to fire. "Get in the truck, Noah."
"Are you fucking crazy? Leave the fucking thing."
"Get in the truck."
"Not until you do, Berry. Cut the crazy for five fucking seconds."
"Damn it." If she could see him around the truck she'd glare at him but she can't. The thing is getting closer and she curses under her breath and just squeezes the trigger. The bullet hits the thing in the head sends it rocking back before it collapses to the ground. And for a few seconds there's only the sound of the gunshot lingering in the air. But then, as if she just rang the dinner bell, another one of those things steps out of the store down the street. "Okay…I do not have enough bullets in my gun for this."
She slams her hand against the passenger side door and Rory flings it open. Before he can even grab for her she's scrambling into the cramped truck and slamming the door shut behind her, Noah climbing into the driver's side half a second later. She hits the button to lock the doors. "Go, Noah. Go."
"As if you had to fucking tell me that." It takes him all of about two seconds to start that truck, shift gears and take off down the street far too fast except the speed is totally necessary. In the mirror Rachel can see the zombies getting smaller and smaller as they get further away.
From Rory's arms the kitten lets out a little mewling sound and paws at her shoulder. And really? She's more than happy to take that little critter and snuggle it because it's the closest thing to normal she's had all day.