Five sets of feet pounded the pavement, rounding a corner and sprinting away from where Jeffrey might have just started breeding a zombie army. The sun would provide enough light for them to get away, but it wouldn't be out for long.

Rachel's hand stayed glued to Quinn's as they followed Chris, who was running with only one arm pumping – his left shoulder was down, and he was keeping his injured arm close to his body. Jill was in the back of the group, almost speed walking. Sheva had an arm around her partner's shoulder, pulling her along.

Chris paused at the end of one street and pulled his radio off his belt.

"Trayvon," he said breathlessly as the women came up behind him. Jill had her eyes closed and her head on Sheva's shoulder.

The speaker crackled. "Yeah, man, I'm here. Are you okay?"

They were still walking at a quick pace. "We're going to be fine," Chris said. "The medicine didn't work. It did the opposite of what we wanted. Jeffrey has turned into some sort of mecha-zombie and is running around biting other zombies. I don't know if they can think or plan or what. You just need to be extra vigilant. Kill them on sight."

"Copy that," Trayvon said. "What's your location?"

"About a mile out. We wrecked the Jeep, so we're on foot. No idea where the zombies are…"

"Hold on. Let me track your location so we can get to you."

"No," Chris said. "It will be dark soon. We need to hole up for the night and rest."

"I don't like that idea," Jenna's voice said. "We're Secret Service. We can pull you out."

"It's too risky!" Sheva called. "Jill and Chris are hurting. They can't run if something goes wrong. We appreciate it, but we need to lay low."

Trayvon sighed and paused for a moment. Quinn could hear him breathing through the radio static."

"You need somewhere where you can get up to a higher floor. I think there is a fire house nearby. If you can get in, you can go up the pole and hide out up there. The zombies won't be able to get up there."

"So we hope," Chris said darkly.

"Right. You're close. Head there. We're not going to be able to cover you at this distance. We'll look out for the zombies. Be safe. Take care of our girls."

"Thank you." The radio went silent. Chris sighed, slumping for a minute with his head down.

Then, he looked up at them.

"Come on. Let's get to the fire house."

The Washington DC Fire Department was on U Street, almost a straight shot north from the White House. They approached it cautiously. Quinn remembered Santana telling her that the second floor had just been built: even as technology advanced, sometimes something as simple as a sliding pole could help. After the economy got better, fire and police departments could finally afford to have a large task force again, and the downtown DC branch grew and grew.

The brick courtyard outside had been overrun with weeds, and someone had completely wrecked the Pepsi machine – most likely to try and get the money. Quinn looked longingly at the machine. In simpler times, she would insert a handful of coins and press a button and receive a cool, refreshing diet soda. But she hadn't used anything with her money in months, and hadn't had many sodas since then. The caffeine jolted her awake, but it made her mouth dry. And when they were living sparsely in Santana and Brittany's apartment, they often didn't know when they would be in danger of running low on water.

She knew Rachel missed her morning coffee, and the pretty brunette was also looking wistfully at the empty machine.

"Baby?"

Quinn looked down. "Yeah?"

"When all of this is over, can we find a Starbucks?"

It was such a simple thought, such a sad thought, that the blonde had to bite her lip to keep from tearing up.

"Of course we can."

Rachel smiled. It was a small one, but it was nevertheless a smile.

The glass of the garage door had been boarded up, but that didn't deter Chris. He crouched and pulled at it with his right hand.

"I don't think this is on very well. It's not like zombies can pull doors up."

"Hey, move over," Sheva said, as Jill sat on the curb with her head in her hands. "I have two good arms!"

Chris agreed, but he still pulled at the door with his good arm. The door creaked and slowly opened, revealing two dusty red fire trucks and a lot of equipment.

"Hurry up, let's get in. Fucking gears are rusted so we don't want any unwelcome attention."

The setting sun cast shadows around the garage, and the still quiet of the station made Quinn on edge. She thought she heard something moving, but attributed it to her nerves as she forced herself to breathe.

Rachel didn't seem to have this sixth sense.

"Hey, something I can actually do!" She half-sprinted to the fire pole. "I was always good at this in gym class. I'll scout the area." She stopped and saluted.

Chris's almost permanent frown line dissolved, and his lips twitched. "Well," he said, almost laughing, "Go for it. And then you can haul my ass up. But, hey. You need to be careful. Got it?"

Rachel smiled and wrapped her little body around the pole. Within seconds, she had disappeared. The others gathered around the hole to the second floor and looked up.

Quinn saw a shadow move and froze.

"Rach?" she called.

But instead of her girlfriend's voice, a metallic click answered her. She heard Rachel scream, and heard a rustle of clothes and a scuff of heavy shoes.

No.

"Rachel!" she yelled, and grabbed the pole to climb.

"Nobody move!" came a harsh voice. "Don't you dare make a move, or this girl gets it!"