Chapter VI
It was like some omnipotent figure had taken a remote and freeze-framed them, then played the world on a slow tempo.
Quinn's breathing was slow though she felt the burn in her lungs. It sounded like she was breathing inside her head, a kind of elongated panting. She turned to run but she couldn't. Her legs felt like lead and she wasn't making progress. Neither was Rachel. It was the kind of moment one waits forever, hoping to encounter, a figment of imagination a rush of adrenaline creates— slow-motion. Now was not the time. It never would be. Fear was running cold in their veins, and impending doom weighing on their backs as they ran from the scene that belonged on a news' station, not something they ever thought they would be seeing.
Ash was falling like a light snow. A few embers drifted around and stung like a wasp whenever it touched exposed skin, which Rachel experienced soon enough. With a small yelp, she yanked her hand inside her sleeve. There was a hiss through her teeth from Quinn as she swiped at a burn mark at the base of her neck. Behind them, the opposing side of the street suffered the most damage, nearest the imploding car. The store front windows were completely blown from their frames, fragmented into a blanket of glitter along the sidewalk. The asphalt cracked where the car had been sitting, crunching inward. A part of a small store sagged and where it was exposed, a wooden beam was burning up, the fire licking the ceiling and making way to the next building. The columns of caustic black smoke whorled up towards the sky, growing thicker every passing moment.
It was becoming harder to breathe. Rachel lifted her arm to cover her nose and mouth with the crook of her elbow, her hand still tucked safely from the embers inside her sleeve cuff. Beside her, Quinn's eyes were beginning to water. It was becoming increasingly dangerous atop the building and the fire was sure to jump the street if it caught enough momentum.
Rachel seized Quinn's arm with her free hand, stopping her. Her face was beginning to collect grime and dust from the fire and debris but her tears tracks down to her chin. She was more afraid than Quinn, who just seemed shocked by her wide, blood-shot eyes. Rachel had no idea what to do next. By grabbing the former cheerleader who used to have the whole school wrapped around her finger gave her some level of remaining grounded in reality. It was like she was drawing from Quinn, stealing some of her energy for her own.
Quinn reflexively covered Rachel's stark knuckles with her own hand. Her mind was working rapidly, weighing their odds. She didn't have time to be scared; this was where her survival instincts kicked in, something she ironically picked up from Cheerios. It forced her to think, to cut off emotions. There was no option to leave the bags. They needed them to survive. They had to be quick— stash and dash. They could worry about the details later.
"Rachel, we have to go now," Quinn said. She ripped Rachel's fingers from her arm and began to drag her towards the roof door.
"What about the rest of the bottles?" Rachel cracked. She coughed into her sleeve, the smog getting into her lungs. Quinn had smoked enough cigarettes to withstand the level of smoke she was inhaling but Rachel had no tolerance. She wouldn't be able to stand it very long without falling unconscious.
"Get inside," Quinn suddenly instructed. She pushed Rachel towards the door. The brunette stumbled against the metal knob and looked uncertainly at the punk. Her eyes were turning red and still streamed tears. Quinn pointed at the door, leaning forward for emphasis. The hard expression she wore reminded Rachel of old times, before they were friends. "Get inside and get the bags. Take out your gun; go downstairs and out the back. Find the car."
Pulling out car keys from a pocket in her cargo pants, she tossed them at Rachel. She caught them against her chest. With a fleeting look through swollen eyes, she opened the door and descended into darkness, leaving Quinn alone. Whirling back around, she bolted for the ledge. There were two bottles left, not including the one that had broken, and their lighters. She wasn't quite sure why she found it so important to grab them, other than the fact that they didn't have a lot, and any ammunition they could gather was worth it. Glancing one last time at the street, she had to tear her eyes away before she became too numb to move again. There wasn't time left, and the whistling of rushing air from a building as a floor collapsed urged her sprinting back.
The door was locked.
"Shit— no!" Quinn strangled out. She twisted the resistant knob and shook the door in its jamb but it was surely locked. A bottle slipped and cracked against the cement, spilling over her boot. That wasn't safe. With the one bottle left, she raised her free hand and pounded against the door. She called Rachel's name, actual panic lining her voice, but after a precarious minute, there was no hearing the ex-Cheerio. The fire was gaining volume. The buildings groaned and whined under the assault of the arson. An ember landed on her bare shoulder and she jerked at the contact, her grip slipping on the last bottle. All she had left were a couple fucking lighters, with which she tossed aside.
Free to move, she grabbed the knob for leverage with one hand and reared back. She slammed against the door with her shoulder, her other hand tucked against her chest to brace her chest. There was a noise of complaint in the hinges, but after two more attempts, a bruise was forming and it was no use. The door was hardly worse for the wear and her shoulder ached. By epiphany, Quinn suddenly slapped her hands on her hips. She felt around, searching for the gun Rachel had given her that morning to fire at the lock, but after a few frantic seconds she sighed resigningly, her eyes closing with defeat— she had set the M9 on the coffee table after Rachel had given it back to her. It was utterly careless of her. Real tears begin to form in her eyes. She looked back at the buildings across the street, now completely engulfed in angry fire, and another building was smoking, preparing to catch. As she stared at what she was beginning to realize would be her demise, her eyes moved over to the fire escape, melting off the side. With another sigh, this of relief and hope, she abandoned the door and the idea of safety, just wanting to get off the damn roof. There was a fire escape that would lead down into the alley, where she could meet Rachel and get into their car.
It was apparent she reached the alley first when she didn't find Rachel or any signs of her being out there. Near the end was a boring gray four-seater car that looked like it had had its rounds. The zombies she had seen here the other morning weren't lingering about, which was good, but a noticeable layer of smoke was rolling along the ground, which was bad. There was even a piece of metal that had flown over them and landed in the alley, chipping the next building, resembling a bit like a bumper.
With literally no more time to waste, Quinn slid down the last ladder and lowered herself to the ground. She felt vulnerable and out in the open, like an animal. She half expected a zombie to charge her again and even if she could react this time, she had no weapon. With one hand still on the ladder, she noticed the last bar she skipped was loose. Taking a firm hold on it, she fought it for a minute before it broke off completely. Feeling a little better and sensing she should put it to use, she neared the back door, where she could break through and help Rachel to the car. Raising the bar up, she began to hit the door handle with the butt of the bar, hoping to break off the entire contraption and stick the end of the pole in to use like a crowbar. Also, adding to the list, get an actual crowbar.
Next to no time had passed when Quinn felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Ducking, an arm swiped air above her. There was an guttural growl, a foul stench. Gritting her teeth, Quinn blindly swung. The bar struck against a chest, an audible crack resounding from the connect. Turning and straightening to her full height, a zombie had stumbled away from her blow, almost stunned, and then was charging. A fresh zombie, still with its good mobility. Quinn choked on a yelp and backed away, swinging the bar again and connecting against its outstretched arm. Another crack echoed in the alley. It veered off course, its arm now dangling in an odd way like she had broken it, but swerved towards her again. Summoning the last of her courage, Quinn contorted her face and grabbed the zombie's shoulder as he became uncomfortably near. The bar raised above her head, she brought it down in an arc, the jagged end piercing the side of its head. Blood gushed across the bar and her hand, streaming down her forearm, but the body became immediately limp in her grasp and collapsed at her feet. Her first melee kill and she couldn't even think to move to safety.
"Quinn!" Rachel screamed. Looking up, the brunette was running the distance Quinn had backed away in the attack. The duffle bags weighed her down and her mouth was gaping as she tried to breathe, athleticism and smoking not her thing. Her long dark hair flew behind her, distracting Quinn— until she noticed a figure leap from behind the lone Dumpster in the alley and begin for the scampering slow girl.
"No!" Quinn screamed hysterically, her voice cracking on the peak. She surged forward. Rachel had stopped running, confused, and then looked over her shoulder as the zombie made for her. It was aiming for Rachel, hands open for the defenseless singer, snarling in the back of its throat. Quinn ran like she had never ran before. Nothing pushed her like this. Nothing mattered as much as this. The thought of Rachel's tanned skin tearing underneath the zombie's relentless fingers was enough to drive Quinn to the brink of insanity and with that, she reached Rachel first, rushed past her, and slammed the bar against the side of the zombie's head at the same instant she crashed into it. Tripping, the she flipped over the body that ceased the moment its skull caved into its contents. The shoulder she used against the door crunched against the pavement as she rolled over it, but better that than her neck, and she landed flat on her back, the air rushing out of her, her vision narrowing and then widening as she took in a wanton breath.
It was all worthwhile.
Coughing, dazed, and struggling to sit forward, Rachel abruptly fell to her knees beside her, having droppd all their necessities, and grabbed Quinn by the neck. She pulled the rebel up to her knees and then against her, hugging when all Quinn really needed was breathe. The brunette began to cry openly.
"You could have died!" Rachel strained out between sobs. Slowly, Quinn rested her hands on Rachel's heaving back, succumbing to the comfort of the other instead of pushing her away. "You saved me…" Rachel finished in a small voice, the kind of voice that already tugged at her heart-strings, but matched with what she said, actually knitted her heart close from the wound created by talk of Finn.
"If that's what it takes…" Quinn mumbled, shutting her eyes at the closeness of the girl she loved. "Then I'll keep fighting until we see the end of this."
Revised!