Chapter VII

"The car only has half a tank of gas." The car had rumbled to life, the gauge staring back at Quinn with the dial just below the half-tank tick. It was better than she was hoping for but at the same time, a little disconcerting.

Beside her, Rachel nodded jerkily. She kept glancing forward at the open end of the alley, where the smoke from the fire was beginning to thicken. The sounds were frightening enough but the sight had to be worse. After Rachel stifled her crying and Quinn was able to swallow what air was available, they hurried to the car. Their duffel bags were tossed haphazardly in the back seats, Quinn recounting in a Cliff-notes version between breaths about what had happened before she made it into the alley. Rachel listened intensely, her eyes abused and reflecting the anguish she felt for the former blonde before she dropped her head into her hands, rubbing her forehead. There was a layer of grime that was partly cleared with her massaging fingers, mirroring what she wished to do with all the strain inside her skull. Quinn could only image how she looked and swiped the back of her hand across her forehead without meaning to check, because she'd rather not know. Her body ached and there was a couple places on her shoulders and arms that throbbed from the embers that kissed her skin before she was brushing them away.

From between her hands, Rachel mumbled an apology, as though Quinn's latest predicament was her fault. It gave Quinn a surge of anger and she waved it off even if the other couldn't quite see it, and dismissed it. It was an empty apology, pointless. It was Quinn's fault, her own brain faltering and nearly getting herself killed. Again.

"So," Quinn said, making sure the doors were locked. Zombies couldn't open doors but somehow, she didn't want to test the validity. "Where… was Finn the last time you saw him?" Refusing to meet Rachel's eyes, she fiddled with the gear shift, preparing to get them the hell out of there.

There was an audible gulp and a sigh. Rachel wiped at her swollen eyes. The fire was really affecting her and when she spoke, her voice was starting to sound strained. It hurt Quinn to know her singing voice could be affected because of all this. Her voice was the world's saving grace, if anything mattered anymore. She didn't think she could bare to continue if she could never hear her sing another song.

"I don't know," Rachel began to reply, coughing a little at the end. "We— I was in the car with him and I… told him about us."

There was a beat-stopping jump in Quinn's heart rhythm, even though she knew there shouldn't be. Just a play of words on Rachel's part. What she was particularly reffering to made Quinn want to cringe, though her façade was too strong for that. What had happened, what she did… it was shameful. Since Quinn's days of not-giving-a-single-fuck, she had gone more out of her way to destroy others and by any means necessary. No one was her friend, not even the crudely labeled clique of Skanks that tailed her like lost puppy dogs and "shared" her weed with her behind the school bleachers. Bet they aren't so badass now…

"We were arguing," Rachel continued, looking down and shaking her head slightly, trying to recall. "I was defending you and he kept saying all these things— hateful things. And I told him I would talk to you, to get the story straight, to prove what… you had allegedly done was not for the reasons he thought—" she started speaking faster as she came to the conclusion of what she remembered "—and he dropped me off at the end of the street, I didn't want to be in the car with him anymore… his mood was smothering. He didn't say where he was going— oh God, I shouldn't have argued with him, those were the last things we ever said to each other!"

"Look, Rachel," Quinn interrupted. She pressed the brake and put the gear into drive, the car jolting beneath them. "We're going to go to Kurt's house. We're going to your house. We're going to my house and we'll go to everyone's house. We'll find the others, I promise. I promised before and I keep my promises."

"What if they're not there?" She finally lifted her head and her red eyes met Quinn's, who began to wonder when she gave up and started gazing at the brunette again. "What if they're not at their house and no one's where we thought they would be? Where are we going to go?"

"We'll keep looking," Quinn said firmly. It was the only thing she could think of.

"What about gas?"

"Let me worry about that. You, on the other hand, seem to know how to use a gun. Be prepared to shoot what I don't run over."

With that, Quinn slammed on the petal. Rachel squealed as they peeled down the alley, the dark smoke creating a thin veil over the windshield. The sounds of the tires spinning on the asphalt screeched through the alley, echoing off the brick. Burning rubber somehow permeated the air over that of what was going up in a blaze. As they neared the opening, Quinn pressured the brakes and jerked on the steering wheel to the left. They whipped out into the open street, opposite of the fires that were spreading saliently, a ruby red glow igniting their windows. When Quinn couldn't sense movement from Rachel, she glanced at her, almost laughing to herself when she saw the tiny girl gripping the door and center console, her legs braced against the floorboard, trying to remain in her seat. Her mouth gaped and her eyes, though probably dry, remained wide open, taking in the fire for the few seconds they drove towards it until Quinn was drifting around another corner, away from the scene. Somewhere along the line, Quinn adopted a smile, enjoying a thrill she hadn't experienced in weeks. Since the beginning of the school year, she had taken to this sort of reckless driving and had become quite experienced. It was a part of her newfound punk behavior.

The drive to Finn's house was miraculously met with little trouble. Only once did Quinn actually see a corpse and promptly swerved to crushed the body beneath their tires. Rachel screamed at the jostle of the body flattening beneath Quinn's driving and didn't yield her brace the entire duration of the ride until she recognized the street there were driving on. At once, she let go and sat forward, counting abandoned houses until they pulled up to Hummel-Hudson residence.

All lights were off and not a car was in the driveway. Rachel unlocked her door and threw off her seatbelt. She was practically out the door before she was jerked back inside, Quinn's hand have seized her by the shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing?" Quinn snapped. Her reaction was met with a stunned, perhaps even blank one from Rachel. "You didn't even check!"

Swallowing, she merely sat back in her seat, staring up at the house. How could she become so careless? Taking her gun from the console, where she had set it when it had been returned to her, Quinn turned off the safety and cocked it; she looked around for a few moments before turning off the car and unlocking her door. As she stepped from her side, Rachel's door swung open. A hand appeared atop the car, armed with a gun, and before Quinn could even shut her door, Rachel was bolting for the front door. Swearing beneath her breath, she let alone the car and ran after, shocked to find the brunette bursting through the front door, unobstructed.

"Rachel!" Quinn hissed, trying to keep her voice low but calling the brunette's attention. She grabbed the girl's wrist and pulled her back from the entryway, catching up with her just in time. Bringing her close, Rachel finally got the idea to pause, and they awaited any zombies to greet them from the noise they created. When none came, she ushered the both of them inside, shutting the door gently behind them, not bothering to lock it in the chance they had to make a quick escape. Rolling her eyes despite herself, she hoped that with time, Rachel would revert to the one that pranced the halls of McKinley. That Rachel would at least have the decency to think, to strategize. If there was one thing Quinn knew Rachel was good at, it was being logical, and at a time like this, they couldn't afford to be irrational. Unfortunately, Quinn wasn't quite as logical, but she was more primal than the brunette. If they could just work together, they would have made much more progress than they have the past couple weeks.

Leaving her side, Rachel walked slowly through the house, Quinn following. They passed through the entryway, through the kitchen, and into the living room. Abruptly, Quinn nearly tipped over Rachel, who had stopped at the sight the living room presented.

There had been an obvious struggle. It looked as though someone had broken through the sliding doors that lead to the backyard patio, and attacked whoever was in the immediate area. The attack left no serious injuries, just a couple droplets of blood here and there. Without looking at each other, a silent understanding transpired. Hurriedly, there was a click of a safety being set on to free Quinn's hands, so she could cross the threshold and reach the bookcase. With both hands, Rachel stayed valiant, surveying the rest of the living room and facing the other entrances while the punk behind her shoved the piece of furniture towards the sliding doors. Glass whined beneath wooden pegs, grating into the floorboards and becoming grain. With a grunt forced from her throat, Quinn pushed the bookcase the last bit to block the shattered portion of the glass, which was a majority of the entrance in whole. Finished, Quinn retrieved her gun from her waistband, joining Rachel to scour the rest of the house.

After several fruitless minutes and every room searched, there wasn't another body, alive, dead, or undead. They returned to the living room, where the most light was provided from outside.

"Quinn," Rachel broke the silence, her voice wavering. She was hesitant, like she didn't want to have to ask what she was about to. "What if they had turned and you shot them without knowing?"

"Unless they were the zombies we set on fire; it wasn't them," Quinn said firmly, more to comfort herself than Rachel. She had though the same thing before and she really preferred to not to go over it again. "I checked every face through the scope."

With a nod, Rachel accepted it. She was still worried of course, it was written on her face, but if anyone they knew happened to be part of the swarm destroyed by the exploding car, there was nothing they could do now. There was nothing left in the house, either. Most necessities had been taken, if not by the family then by looters. Anything they could take would be pointless and just end up encumbering them.

Putting away her gun, Rachel turned away. Curious, Quinn watched her approach the front doors but instead, turn and head up the stairs, looking quite downtrodden. There was the thought about following her, in case they missed some comatose zombie upstairs that could attack Rachel, but Quinn knew where she was going and she couldn't bother her. As much as it hurt her, twisting her insides and making her jealous when she least need to be, Quinn knew Rachel needed to have a minute alone, in Finn's bedroom.

Left to her own devices for the moment, Quinn entered the kitchen. Experimentally, she tried the tap. A bit of water spurted out and she seized the opportunity by snatching a nearby rag and soaking up what water was left in the pipes. With the rag, she wiped at her face and shoulders, hissing whenever the cloth passed over her burns. Once she had cleaned herself to the best of her abilities, Rachel was returning. At the sight of the damp rag, Rachel wordlessly stepped over and accepted it, dragging it over her brow, eyes closed. Quinn didn't want to look at her, or worse, be found staring, so she moved around her and waited by the door. Her thumb picked at a ridge on her gun idly until Rachel came around the corner and gestured for them to leave. There was nothing left for them here.

The next couple hours were wasted on checking their own homes. Both turned out empty, ransacked though without the kind of struggle Finn's house displayed. A quite panic invaded Quinn's defenses, the kind that had her gripping the steering wheel tighter and had her blinking less.

Their parents were missing. Their friends were missing. For all they knew, they were the last two people in Lima, in Ohio, in— Quinn swallowed, forcing herself to stop before she panicked and did something stupid.

Rachel silently stifled her crying in the passenger seat as Quinn drove for an unknown destination. It frustrated Quinn instead of drawing sympathy. She wanted pull over, turn off the car, and cry, too. She just couldn't bring herself to accept that kind of defeat. Here she was, trying so hard to make things the best they could, fulfilling the promise she made to Rachel and attempting to find another sign of life, preferably in the shape of a relative or friend. Yet, all Rachel could do was cry, and think about Finn. Was she not good enough for her? With a bite on her tongue, she knew she was just being wickedly jealous and irrational. Again, Rachel was the more logical one of the two and she was currently in tears. She just had to force herself to not think about that. All it seemed like anymore was Quinn making sure she didn't think about things that could cloud her judgment and focus on acting. Resigning, what she really needed was Rachel to pull herself together and it would take time.

Throughout the entire town of Lima, there were signs of the apocalypse. It was the kind of things that were always pictured in their culture— more fires, cars crashed into one another or swerved off into telephone poles and buildings; bodies, blood, putrid smells, broken glass, half-collapsed structures, and so forth.

It was to the point that as they drove, they couldn't decide if they were becoming desensitized or were just become numb.

Half the day was already gone and they needed to figure out where they were going to sleep next. Their last post has probably already burned up with that part of Lima and it was risky to find another entire building to clean out, if they could manage that. All things considering, they were still new to this world— how to properly use guns, ration food, strategize. The phrase "survival of the fittest" was coming into play.

"Rachel," Quinn choked out. They hadn't spoken in some time, not since Finn's house. There wasn't anything to say and Quinn was sure Rachel just wanted to apologize again but learned by now that it was useless. "Rachel, I need you."

With a sniff, the brunette looked up. She looked worse for the wear. If her eyes weren't already red and swollen, they were now with her crying. She wiped at her cheeks with the sleeve of her button-up, trying to compose herself.

"We're going to a gas station. We need gas and a place to stay tonight." It wouldn't be long before it began to darken. With a glance, Quinn even spotted clouds on the horizon, like an approaching storm. "Can you cover me when I get gas?"

Rachel merely nodded and took her gun from the car door pocket. She turned off safety and checked the gun, still sniffling and looking miserable. Quinn had to look away or she wasn't sure what she'd do; either grab Rachel into a hug or yell at her for mentally checking out when Quinn needed her most. Why does everything have to be a conflicting mess inside her?

Carefully navigating through Lima and crushing the occasional walker, she made her way to where she knew would be a good gas station. As she drove up a wide street, she made a right into an empty lot, the scaffold of a Shell gas station looming over them. It was spaced a good bit from the rest of the buildings, a security measure when built if there was an accident and the station blew up or something. Instead, Quinn felt it proper in case their man-made fire made it across Lima.

Quinn pulled up to the pump closest the store. Without waiting to see if Rachel was ready, she jumped out of the car and made for the pump. She noticed the cardboard sign swinging in the slight breeze at each pump, reading "God Bless!" and figured it meant that the pumps were accessible. Yanking the hose out of its port, she found the gas tank cap and practically tore it off. It occurred to Quinn how truly frightened and vulnerable she was when she saw her hands shaking as she put in the nozzle. Gripping the trigger, she sighed internally as she heard the pump sputter and then push gas through the hose, into the tank. It was the most grateful slosh she ever heard.

On the other side of the car, Rachel stood with her gun raised in both hands. She figured that the least she could do was watch Quinn's back after the complete melt-down in the car. It can't be easy always being so cold and hard all the time. She hardly, if ever, showed emotion, and here Rachel was, watery and useless beside her. For now, she pulled herself together and now scanned the streets, checking over her shoulder every few moments in a constant vigilance for bodies.

Quinn practically jumped out of her skin, a gunshot ringing through the air and in her ears. Spinning around, she saw a walker just make it to the sidewalk on the other side of the street and then collapse.

"Nice shot," Quinn appraised, her voice returning. Rachel said nothing, smiling meekly. The pump clicked, the hose bouncing slightly as the gas stopped flowing. It really was a gift from God that there had been that much gas left to fill up the car. She should start counting her blessings now, before they ran out. Taking the hose from the gas tank, she hurriedly put everything back in place before jumping into the driver's seat. Rachel followed suit. Quinn turned the car back on and maneuver until she brought it right up to the gas station. At the last second, she noticed one of the windows broken, the section missing big enough for a body to pass through and that the car could block. When she parked the passenger side right along the broken window, Rachel turned to throw a questioning look at the pinkette.

"Roll down your window," Quinn instructed. She didn't say anything else even when Rachel continued to look at her. Then, she turned and rolled down her side's window, the broken window lining up perfectly with the door so that Rachel could crawl inside. When she did nothing else, Quinn rolled her eyes and voluntarily clambered over the other girl, gun tucked safely in her cargo jeans. There was a noise of complaint from the girl beneath her that she ignored as she shimmied through the broken window and somewhat awkwardly helped herself down over some shelves. Inside, she turned and lifted one of her brows in a gesture that was purely signature by now, and didn't have to wait long for Rachel to obey and crawl in, too.

"We're never going to find the others," Rachel mumbled out, like her hope was leaking from her. Hopefully safe now, she felt like she could be open about what had become a fact to her, if it wasn't already apparent.

"Shut up," Quinn snapped. She hadn't meant to but she was glad she did because it at least changed Rachel's expression to perhaps slightly angry. Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose and stepped closer. When she looked up from the floor, her eyes were particularly onyx and Rachel couldn't help but stare at them. She had never let it be known but she always found the former-blonde's eyes to be pretty captivating. It was just one of those weird infatuations she figured she had for the ex-Cheerio, something conjured by the constant plight she had against the girl that used to torment her. But now, friends if not anything else, she still found Quinn's eyes amazing. It was curious.

"I said we will find them. I will whether you give up all hope or find enough to fight with me. Either way, I swore I would protect you and I'll drag you with me if I have to when you don't even have the strength to walk anymore."

Quinn's words surprised them both. They were so heartfelt that Quinn hadn't expected them and Rachel could only nod, accepting it. Maybe one day, she could draw on her strength again and hopefully be able to fight beside her, and not be some shadow.

Taking out her gun, Rachel kicked into gear and did the same. Together, they made their way through the gas station, checking for walkers. There weren't very many rooms and the very back room was locked, so with that, Quinn went about her routine of barricading entrances, while Rachel took it upon herself to find some blankets from the storage room. On her way back into the store part of the building, her eye caught a box of eye drops that had been knocked over and picked up a bottle. She was in definite need of these.

Walking from the back of the store, Quinn smiled at the sight of the blankets and took them from Rachel's hands. She decided it best to remain hidden from view as much as possible and created a palette for them behind the counters. Dusting her hands, she smiled at Rachel.

"Lay down," she said.

Without an objection, Rachel practically melted into the palette, finding it so comfortable after the day they had. Sitting beside her, Quinn shrugged off her jean jacket, draping it over Rachel as a habit. She hoped it wasn't too distinct because she'd much rather keep her explicit feelings a secret, but it didn't seem to be peculiar to Rachel so she took it a step further. Picking up the bottle of eye drops Rachel had found, she brushed away her dark hair from her face, maintain a blank one of her own. It was platonic— her touches, her actions. Rachel whined and tried to turn her face away but Quinn simply grabbed her chin and forced her to open her eyes. Once so innocent and chocolate-brown, they were so red and blood-shot that it could be nothing but painful to see anymore. Carefully, Quinn treated her eyes, chuckling a little when the diva kept blinking and squirming. Eventually, a couple drops made their way into her eyes and she was able to turn onto her side to provide room for Quinn on the palette to sleep.

Just before sleep, it seemed so quiet.

Revised!