Finn and Quinn sat on guard outside Rachel's room every night, keeping a close eye on Rachel. Instead of her grief becoming gradually less, it intensified as time continued. The brunette never spoke to anyone aside from Santana and Brittany, and frequently stayed locked inside her room.
Finn began to regret what he done to Puck. He hated seeing Rachel like this, so lost, so lonely, when he couldn't do anything about it. He tried, but Santana never let him near Rachel.
"Listen up Hudson," Santana stormed into Finn's room, anger filling her face and voice. "You got to get up off your bed, get out of this house, and go looking for Puck. I don't care how long it takes, I don't care if you lose an arm or leg, I want you to go out there and FIND him!"
"I thought you told Rachel that he was dead. Why go letting her get her hopes up?"
"Well you know that poor girl, who you're supposed to 'love' has just told me that she wished the Walkers got her instead of him! She wants to go out there, get herself sacrificed, just so she can be with him again! And so, its your responsibility to go looking for Puck, not ours. YOU were the one who left Puck behind."
"What's the point of me going? He's dead for God's sake!"
"How do you know he's dead, huh? Did you shoot him down when Rachel wasn't looking? I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, you have 15 minutes before I kick you out this house. Either you go willingly, or I'll show you some of my Lima Heights hospitality."
Finn didn't want to see how bad Santana's Lima Heights hospitality was, so within the next twenty minutes, he was in his truck on his way out of Ohio. Good job he brought extra gas.
Within the first 10 minutes, he'd seen over one hundred of the dead. At least they were slow, he'd passed them before they even began to chase him. Finn started to wonder how far Puck could have gotten, if he was still alive, that is. A few ragged looking survivors waved in his direction for help, but he flew past them, not wanting to get distracted. He had a plan, and it had to work.
Back at the house, Quinn lounged on Santana's small living room couch, hoping to hear some noise, any at all. Santana and Brittany had both left hours before in search of more supplies for Rachel.
"The silence is really loud, don't you think?" Sam said, peering through a small gap in the window, holding his gun close to him.
"Yes, it is. I was thinking that myself." Quinn chuckled only to soon stop, laughter seemed strange and rare these days.
"Do you think Finn's going to find Puck?" Sam brought up the question that was on everyone's mind, but nobody knew how to answer.
"I don't think so, no. But Rachel believes he will, so for her sake, I'm hoping he does come back."
"If Puck does come back, we'll end up separating."
"Why do you think that is?" Quinn asked.
"Well do you think that Puck is going to be able to even look at Finn without wanting to shoot him?"
"He's just going to have to get over it, isn't he?"
"Are you expecting him to, Quinn? Do you think that Puck is just gonna be friends with Finn again? God, not even Rachel will be able to stop him. Its gonna be a bloodbath if he comes back."
"We're just going to have to sort it out. Like Santana told us, we've got to stick together. They'll have to set aside their differences."
The room lapsed into silence, taking in each other's words. Soon enough, Sam spoke up, keeping his eyes on the surrounding perimeter of the household. "I want to kill Finn for what he did."
"You can't possibly mean that, Sam!" Quinn shot up like a bullet, staring at Sam. "Please, don't do this. You've went weeks without doing anything, so why now?"
"Because now Finn thinks we're all friends again, now is the best time to strike back. I wanna kill him for what he's did to Rachel, and to Puck. What he's done to all us. Tell me Quinn, tell me that you don't feel any anger."
"Sure I do, but I'm not going to kill Finn! I'm not going to kill someone who may only have a limited amount of time left on the earth. Sam, we all only have a limited amount of time before we all die. Why go making everything worse? We need to value our time together."
"I'm not going to spend my final days with a guy who intended on killing his best friend and breaking the heart of the girl he loves." Sam retreated from his position by the window, walking to the door.
"Sam! Sam! Where are you going?" Quinn lurched up off her seat to pull Sam back, hanging tightly onto his jacket.
"I'm going out. I'll be back soon, don't worry. Santana and Britt will be home soon. Just remember what I told you, keep quiet and don't make too much noise. The Walkers are getting closer now." Sam wriggled out of Quinn's grasp, unlocking the door, stepping outside and re-loading his gun.
"Please don't leave me, please." Quinn pleaded. "Sam, stay with me. I don't want to be alone."
The blonde boy turned to face Quinn, a slight quiver of a smile appearing. "I'll be back soon, okay Quinn? Don't worry." Behind Sam, a moaning sound was heard, becoming louder and louder.
"Sam.. Sam.. Behin-" One of the dead attacked Sam from behind, ripping his throat open, eating the flesh and blood that poured out of his neck.
Quinn watched screaming as Sam was eaten alive, unable to move, her arms raised in a sign of help, but Sam couldn't be helped anymore.
In a matter of seconds, moaning was heard from all around, travelling closer and closer. Quinn slammed the front door, her hands fumbling clumsily as she placed wooden planks against the front door, struggling to contain the tears that poured out of her eyes.
Rachel, hearing Quinn's breathless pants and screams, crept downstairs to discover Quinn with her back against the door, shivering and crying. "Quinn! Oh God, Quinn! What happened!"
Quinn glanced up at Rachel, her eyes filled with tears, her breathing hitched and unnatural. "They've came for us. All of them."