Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!I continue to be blown away by everyone who likes this story. It's winding down now, probably only a few more chapters until the end. Hopefully I'll make you all proud.

Chapter 13 - Aftershock

Everyone hears Quinn's scream. Everyone in every corner of the building. But Kurt hears it the loudest. He knows in that moment, as soon as he sees the zombie's canines poke into the too-delicate skin around Finn's neck, he knows that he's going to regret this moment for the rest of his life. If he had only moved more quickly. If he had only been less afraid to engage the zombie who managed to scramble over the truck beds and through the front doors. That zombie that had ignored the glaringly bright lights that reflected off the cool metal of Puck's pickup and had barreled into the school with rage so terrifying that Kurt, at the time, couldn't even breathe. He couldn't even think of moving.

This was not the slow-moving zombie of yesterday. Those zombies were fat and happy off their town-wide buffet. This zombie was hungry. So hungry that in its blind scavenge for food, it didn't notice Kurt, standing ramrod straight by the sparkling Kill Tally board, one thumb pressed into one red star beside his name. The zombie only heard the echoing whispers of Quinn and Finn down the hall, around the corner, just barely out of sight.

It was only when the zombie stumbled fully past that Kurt was able to move. And by then, it was too late.

So Kurt is crying as he shoots the zombie. Crying and swearing and apologizing to Quinn and Finn's corpse and his dad's bashed in face. It's not fair that he has to be in the place, with these people, with these responsibilities. It's not fair that he hesitated for only a moment, and that moment was all it took for Finn's life to end. None of this is fair. It shouldn't happen like this. It shouldn't. He's only fifteen.

Fifteen.

He's fifteen, and it's his fault that Finn won't live to see his not-baby smile.

It's not fair.

Puck and Rachel are halfway to undressed when they hear her. Puck's shirt is in Rachel's hand, and Rachel's bra strap is an inch from off, and they freeze for less than a millisecond.

"Quinn," Rachel breathes, and she whips her shirt back on so quickly that Puck misses the sight of it sliding over her skin when he blinks.

"Gun," he says, and she looks at him just in time to catch the pistol he tosses her. There's no time to load the big guns. There's only time to haul ass and keep breathing.

Quinn screams again.

Puck doesn't bother with his shirt, and he and Rachel run out of the room and down the hall. It's not the time for stealth or modesty.

Rachel almost steamrolls Artie as he rolls to a stop outside he and Tina's room, but she dodges around him and powerslides around the corner, making for the stairs like a recently uncaged animal. Puck lopes behind, jamming a clip into his pistol and turning off the safety.

"Quinn!" Rachel yells. "Quinn!"

Quinn screams again, and it's better than GPS because now Rachel and Puck both realize they're going the wrong way. They spin and charge down the remaining length of the hallway. They turn the corner.

Quinn is blood-splattered, hands raised in a defensive stance in front of her, and the hallway is a mess of carnage. Blood sprays on the walls, on Kurt, on Quinn, on Finn, and everything is a haze of red for just a few moments. But those few moments last forever, because Rachel and Puck are both waiting anxiously for Finn to blink. His eyes are wide and unseeing, staring at them with a look of confusion. Not even fear, not even pain. Just confusion.

It was quick.

"Shit!" Puck screams. "Fuck! What the fuck? What the fuck?"

"Are there any more?" Rachel asks, her voice thick with emotions she's trying not to show.

"No, just him," Kurt replies, and Rachel is hyper-aware of the tear tracks down his dirty cheeks. He scrubs at his face angrily, smearing blood from his hands onto his face. She swallows bile.

"What happened?" Puck asks. Rachel inches towards Quinn like one would move towards a feral cat, uncertainty shining through the tears thick in her eyes.

"He just ran by me," Kurt answers, resting his bloody hand against his bloody forehead like a damsel in Victorian literature. "Didn't even look at me. He heard…he heard Finn's voice, and he just ran. He was crazed, hungry. I don't know. I haven't seen any of them act like this before. I can't…I just…"

"Quinn?" Rachel says gently, reaching out and gripping Quinn's arms in her hands. Quinn's hands flap impotently at her sides, trying to shake away the blood or maybe the reality of this moment. "Come on, Quinn. Let's get you to the showers. Come with me, okay? We're going to get you cleaned up. We're going to get you away from here."

At least, that's what she thinks she says. What comes out is more a jumble of sobbed syllables.

Quinn's lip quivers, but she nods and allows Rachel to push her gently towards the stairs. The momentum carries her down the hall, and Rachel uses the opportunity to get close to Puck's ear.

"He might…" she says, tears choking her words and making them nearly unintelligible. "I can't watch that. Quinn can't watch that."

"And what the fuck am I supposed to do?" Puck asks. He's seconds from crying, but he can't do it here. Not in front of people. Never in front of people.

"I'm sorry, Noah. I shouldn't be asking you…"

"No, you're right. I have to do it," Puck mutters, even though he's secretly resentful for a moment. He shouldn't have to do it. In a perfect world, no one would have to do it. Rachel stands on her toes and wraps her arms around his neck briefly, pressing her body against his like she's trying to force him to absorb her strength. He kisses the top of her hair and nods against her, trying to pretend like it's working even though it's not. No amount of strength, even Amazonian warrior woman strength, could prepare him for this. And Puck knows that once the shock finally wears off, it's going to be one hell of a painful night.

"Thank you," Rachel whispers, and she kisses him gently. This is utterly unlike any kiss they've shared before. This is familiar, comfortable. She is easy and careful and loving. Appreciating.

Even in this moment, she knows how lucky she is to have him. And it makes him want to fucking rip his own head off, because every time he lets himself like her a little, he's opening himself up to a world of hurt. Because the world belongs to zombies now, and they play nasty. Losing Finn is impossible enough to comprehend, even though it's already happened. Even though he's dead two feet away.

Rachel gives him one last long look and then hurries down the hall after Quinn, who is still wandering in the direction in which she was pushed. Quinn vomits and it splatters on the ground, but she keeps walking.

Puck turns to Kurt, whose tears are flowing freely. He doesn't really know what to say. He and Kurt don't get along (which is mostly his fault, okay) but he feels bad for the kid. He knows Kurt's blaming himself for what happened to Finn, even though it wasn't really his fault. Even though Puck wants to beat Kurt half to death just to be able to blame somebody who's not a walking corpse, he knows it's not his fault. Blaming him isn't going to solve anything. Blaming him isn't going to wipe that horrible look off Finn's face and make him stop lying there like that with his blood all over the ground.

"Hey, uh, it's all right," he says awkwardly, but the withering look of disdain that Kurt shoots him is a little hard to figure out. He's just trying to help. And sure, so maybe he's been a huge asshole to Kurt in the past and hasn't actually done anything to apologize for that, because for some reason Mr. Schuester glossed over the fact that they were dickheads when he ordered the glee kids to accept he and Quinn and Santana as 'part of the group' and never really addressed it again. But still. He's trying. And his best friend is lying on the ground with his blood thrown in a truly disturbing radius, and he's actually trying to make Kurt Hummel feel better, so Kurt should appreciate it a little more. If Puck had his way, the whole fucking world would be trying to make him feel better, because there's no way Kurt feels worse than Puck does. There's no way he can.

But it's not like he can do much, anyway. Because he's shaking and so close to just passing right the fuck out that the room is starting to spin. Or maybe he's just trying not to cry – he's not sure. Everything just feels like shit, and he wants to go find Rachel, and hug Rachel, but that would mean going near Quinn and he's not sure that they can look at each other right now. He's not sure that they'll be able to look at each other ever again.

"Is he going to turn?" Kurt asks, lifting watery but stony eyes to meet Puck's own. Puck looks down at the glassy-eyed stare of confusion that's still on his best friend's face, and he shakes his head.

"I don't think so," he says, and his voice chokes up just enough that Kurt has to know that he's crying. Which is just such bullshit, because Puck just knows that Kurt's version of 'dealing' is going to be through spouting pithy barbs about everything he can, including Finn's death and including Puck's reaction to it.

But right now, Kurt just edges along the wall, trying to avoid stepping in Finn's blood, like it would be disrespectful or something. He slides a little, and Puck reaches out a hand. It's not really something he does on purpose. Not like he's consciously concerned that Kurt's going to fall, because by the time he realizes his hand's in the air, Kurt's already stable again. It's just that in this moment, Kurt reminds Puck so much of his little sister that he has to put his hand out. He has to keep Kurt from falling.

Kurt grabs his arm and Puck pulls him away from the bodies and the blood that mar the speckled linoleum tiles. He feels Kurt's arms wrap around his neck, and he awkwardly pats the kid's back and tries to murmur some quasi-comforting platitudes, but really he's just staring at Finn's face and waiting for it to grow murderous and hungry.

But it doesn't, because the blood loss killed him before the virus could. And the fact that that's comforting makes Puck want to die.

Rachel and Quinn are halfway to the locker room when Quinn snaps out of her reverie. She tries to run back down the hallway, but Rachel intercepts, throwing her arm wildly into Quinn's path and managing to catch her around the shoulders.

"He might still be alive," Quinn sobs. "What if he's dying there, and I'm not…what if he's…?"

Rachel closes her eyes and immediately sees Finn's own staring off into the distance.

"No," she says as she swallows chunks of bile. "He's dead, Quinn."

"You don't know that. Are you a doctor? No. You're just a stupid girl with a stupid crush. He didn't even love you. He loved me. He loved us." She cups her hand under her stomach momentarily, but then her hands come up to push Rachel violently away. "Get away from me. I need to see him. He might still be…"

Rachel can't stop crying as she tries to contain Quinn, tries to keep her standing where she is. She knows that Quinn is a strong girl and that Quinn can take a lot of what life throws at her, but she's not sure how Quinn can handle the death of the boy she loves. And she's definitely not sure how Quinn can handle seeing the dead body that is all that's left of the boy she loves.

"Please," she sobs, trying to contain her emotions for just a little while longer. "Don't go look. Don't remember him like that, Quinn. Just remember him like he was, please."

Quinn stops moving abruptly, her hands cupped around her stomach again, but this time it's to keep from vomiting. Rachel catches her by the shoulders and wraps herself around Quinn like she's trying to transform into a comfort blanket. Like she's trying to conceal everything bad in the world from Quinn.

"How could that happen?" Quinn cries, pulling away to look at Rachel in a sudden moment of clarity. Her lower lip quivers and she bares her teeth at Rachel like a wild animal trying to protect their young. "How could it happen to him?"

"I don't know," Rachel answers, because she doesn't, because it all seems very unfair to her, too. Brittany and now Finn? Two people who did nothing to deserve it? She can't imagine a world in which that would be considered fair. She can't imagine anything at the moment at all.

"He doesn't watch out for himself. He was trying to protect me. The damn zombie wasn't even going for me. It was going for him, and he knew it, but he jumped in front of me anyway. He's so stupid like that! He's so stupid, and he doesn't even care about himself. He doesn't even realize that I'd rather die than let anything happen to him. He doesn't realize that he'd be better off letting the zombie kill me, because now what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to live without him? I love him so much, and he's lying there dead, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"

She clutches to Rachel desperately as the denial melts away and she's left with nothing but the pain of accepting that he's gone, that she watched the life ebb from his body in splurts and graceless fountains. She watched him die and could do nothing, and he's dead.

He's dead.

Everyone stands in a circle around Finn, waiting for him to rise. He doesn't, of course, and Puck tries to tell them that, but no one moves. They just stand and stare because they're not sure what else they're supposed to do.

"Was it quick?" Tina asks, voice trembling as she wipes at her wet eyes with shaking fingers.

"Yeah," Kurt says. "It was quick."

He finally detaches from Puck's side with those words, and he melts down the hallway to find Quinn, feeling his way along the wall like a blind man as he goes. Puck watches him, because really there's nothing else to watch, and he thinks again of how much Kurt looks like his little sister when he walks. So fragile and determined and stubborn as all hell, like the time she broke her leg playing soccer but pretended like she was okay. Stupid kid.

Puck swipes at his eyes.

"I'll take care of this," Will says gently. He's trying not to insult Puck's raging manliness, Puck can tell, because he's not as weepy as he normally would be. Puck sort of appreciates it, although he's not really in any sort of place to appreciate anything at the moment. He just nods and walks down the hallway again, turning his back on Finn for the last time. And God, it hurts like a bitch.

Rachel leaves Quinn with Kurt, because Kurt wants to take care of her. Rachel understands. Kurt wasn't able to save Finn, but he still has a shot with Quinn. He can still do that. She leaves after hugging Quinn again, and promising Quinn that she's going to be around if Quinn needs her – although she finds it unlikely that Quinn will. Kurt is more than capable, and he's a pro at bottling his emotions away until it's no longer necessary. Meanwhile Rachel can't stop sobbing about Finn and her fathers and Brittany and everyone she's ever met.

She exits the locker room and finds Puck standing outside in the hallway, hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders slumped with defeat. She swallows her grief for just a little while longer. Puck has been strong for all of them. It's his turn.

She takes his hand and leads him down the hallway and into the abandoned nurse's office yet again. He blindly follows her as she pushes him towards the cot, and he drops into it with a sudden loss of energy.

"It's okay," she whispers. And she doesn't mean that it's okay that Finn's dead, or that they'll get through it together, or even that everything will work itself out in the end. She doesn't say that because it's not true. She only means that it's okay for him to stop trying to be strong.

He seems to understand, and he gropes blindly for her waist. At first she's horrified and believes he's trying to initiate sex. But then she realizes that he just wants something to hold on to, and she relents, allowing herself to be pulled forward and into the cot beside her.

His face, he buries somewhere near her stomach, and she feels rather than hears his sobs as he cries into her abdomen. She clutches his neck and the top of his head, stifling her own desperate sadness as she tries to cling to some semblance of calm. Of rationality. But all she can see is Finn's wide-eyed death stare. All she can hear are Quinn's heart-broken shrieks.

"Nothing will be the same again," she cries, and she buries her face in Puck's sparse hair, her eyes dripping tears onto his head.

They cry together, and neither will mention it again. Neither will allow themselves to think of themselves as weak for needing the moment. They just can't. Because Finn meant the world to both of them. And he's gone. There's no escaping that.

They both know that they will have to be strong for the others. It is expected of Puck, and Rachel expects it of herself. But for a few brief moments, they are allowed to simply exist for each other.

Twelve hours later, Kurt emerges from the locker room to report that he's not sure how to get Quinn on her feet.

"She won't get up," he frets, hands scrambling at each other. "She's just lying there. I thought she'd fall asleep, or cry, or something, but she's not doing anything."

"Is she breathing?" Artie asks, and he tries to explain that he wasn't being mean or joking when everyone turns and stares at him, but he can't overcome his sudden paralyzing nervousness enough to say much more than a squeak and a few stutters.

"She's breathing. And blinking and I'm pretty sure her heart is still pumping, but other than that it's like she's not even home."

"Her boyfriend just died," Tina reminds Kurt pointedly. "It's been twelve hours. She's probably just…"

"Wasting away in the pits of despair? Well that's not exactly acceptable, is it?" Kurt snaps. No one says anything, because they all know that he's tired, and he's blaming himself, and he's just spent twelve hours watching a breathing, blinking, but otherwise motionless girl.

"Lambert is right. It's not acceptable. You kids need to realize there's going to be collateral damage, here. Not everyone can survive. Not everyone can go around traipsing through the hallways without a care in the world without having their blood spray-paint the walls a few minutes later. This isn't kindergarten. This isn't even a cheerleading competition. This is real life, and there are life-or-death decisions to be made every second."

No one responds to Sue's statement or the conviction behind it, but they all think about smacking her.

"He's only been dead for twelve hours," Tina mutters. "You can't just expect us to move on in twelve hours."

"Well a little more than twelve hours ago, you all were whining about three days being too long to wait to be extracted. All you've done for twelve hours is sit around and stare silently out the windows. Occasionally shooting a zombie if you can muster up the willpower to get over yourselves for five seconds."

"That's not fair, Coach Sylvester," Rachel says quietly. Sue levels her with a truly impressive glare that goes almost unnoticed because no one really has the time to go about judging the impressiveness of her glaring abilities.

"Life isn't fair. You think this isn't fair? You think this safe little setup you've got here isn't fair? Well here's a newsflash. You're alive. The rest of the world isn't. That isn't fair. The fact that some shady government agency or terrorist organization unleashed this virus on the world isn't fair. The fact that we can't be rescued by the government because Canada has closed her borders to us isn't fair. The fact that no one even realizes I'm still alive and waiting to be rescued is definitely not fair. What happened to Hudson is unfortunate, but in the grand scheme of worldwide injustices at the moment, this hardly takes the top seat. You are all so sure that your little lives mean more than most people. All you kids are the same. You're convinced that the world starts and ends with you. Well it doesn't. You were just lucky enough to have a place to go, and smart enough to know not to leave it. But if you don't shape up and start realizing that you're going to have to be just a little tough if you're going to survive this place, then you have a lot more to learn than I thought you did."

She storms off, hoping to inspire some sort of resurgence in morale in her absence. But nothing happens. She can hear the silence behind her, and she growls to herself.

This kind of insubordination is unacceptable.

No one moves for another twelve hours. They switch rooms, confer in huddles, go to the bathroom in groups, and patrol the hallway with a truly determined amount of apathy. But no one moves to do anything of importance. No one tries to better their current situation by doing anything more than reminiscing about how things were easier when Finn was alive, when Brittany was alive, when there were no zombies running around and eating their friends.

Sue retreats to the roof and stays there screaming down about how they make her sick. She tells them that she can smell their fear and it smells like putrescence. She says that she hates everything they choose to be.

No one really notices except Rachel.

Sue Sylvester's dislike is important to no one except the girl who relies so much on the opinions of others to fuel her zest. She doesn't care if people dislike her for things that she is personally proud of. But she knows that Sue is right about at least some things, and the shouting and general disgust is starting to take a toll on her nerves. Rachel wants everyone to come together and triumph like they did when Brittany died, but for some reason everyone is reacting much more violently to Finn's untimely demise than they were to Brittany's. Rachel thinks it has something to do with Mr. Schuester's constant insistence that Finn was their leader (even though Rachel knew that she was their leader and didn't understand the point of asserting Finn, who wasn't assertive at all).

"We need to go to Columbus," Rachel says to Quinn after twenty-four hours and thirty-five minutes have passed since Finn died. Quinn looks at her with lank hair hanging in her face and a sneer already on her lips. Rachel ignores it and continues. "Finn was attacked because we weren't ready. We're just kids. We can hardly be expected to be ready for everything. We need to get to Columbus so we can go to Canada, where there will be people who will think of everything that we need. They'll be able to save us if something like this ever happens again."

"Does it really matter where we go?" Quinn asks. "They'll still be after us. They never stop."

"Not yet, but given their affection for eating anyone they come into contact with, I assume they're going to start getting hungry once they run out of food. We just have to keep away from them until they starve to death."

"And what if they don't starve to death? They're already dead, aren't they?"

"They're undead. I think that implies some sort of life. They can be dead again. We can kill them."

"But what if they don't starve?"

"Then we kill them all. From the safety of Canada."

Quinn sighs and rolls her eyes to the heavens.

"My father would not like the idea of me abandoning America to go to Canada. He wouldn't even buy me a Nissan because it wasn't American. He made me get a Malibu instead."

"I'm sure that must have been difficult, having your father buy you a car," Rachel says snidely before she can stop herself. Quinn grins a little and shrugs.

"I'm spoiled. I know."

"No, it's not that. It's just…"

"We're getting cabin fever."

"Yeah."

"And Finn's dead."

"Yeah, I know," Rachel whispers, afraid to hear what Quinn has to say next.

"And everything's falling apart because we have no idea what we're supposed to do next."

"Yeah."

"I don't want to die," Quinn says suddenly, her chin quivering as she meets Rachel's gaze.

"I don't either."

"I'm supposed to want to die, aren't I? Finn's dead. I have no one. I'm supposed to hurl myself from the second story window and feed myself to zombies piece by piece. Right? If I loved him, I would do that?"

"No," Rachel replies with horror, gripping Quinn's limp wrist in her hands. "Quinn, never. That's not love, that's adolescent fantasy. That's Romeo and Juliet. That's not love. If you love Finn, you keep living. You raise your child. You love your life. Finn would never have wanted you to think that you should die to prove your love to him."

"I guess I'm just feeling a little dramatic."

"It's understandable. We're teenagers, and you're pregnant, and there are zombies outside. These are all things that it's okay to be dramatic about."

Quinn allows the ghost of a smile to grace her lips, and she looks down at Rachel's hands. She frees herself from Rachel's grip gently, only to lace her fingers through Rachel's. She squeezes her hand tightly.

"I have you," she says simply. "Despite everything I've done to you. I was wrong when I said I don't have anyone. I have you, and I have Puck, and I have Mr. Schuester and Santana and everyone. I was so mean, but you all forgave me, and now you're willing to take turns helping me while I sit here and feel sorry for myself."

"You have every reason…"

"I know I do. But that doesn't mean I should. We need to go to Columbus. You're right. We need to take our chances, because we can't stay here. We're just kids."

"We're just kids," Rachel agrees, and she tries not to show surprise when Quinn leans over and hugs her tightly, but she's pretty sure the gasp gives her away.

When the rest of the kids see Quinn starting to channel her grief into some sort of frantic badass hyper-awesomeness, they hurry to do the same. No one really feels right about showing more grief than her. It seems a little tacky. And there's the fact that if she's strong enough to face the day without him, then they should be more than ready.

Quinn uses this to her advantage, and she lets them worry about planning to go to Columbus. She writes Finn's eulogy and wonders if they're even going to have a funeral. Rachel hovers, which is equal parts annoying and endearing, and Quinn finally chooses 'endearing' after the thirtieth time Rachel sticks her head in Quinn's room and asks 'are you sure you're okay?' It's hard to stay mad at someone who cares about you. Especially when that person is just about the only one who will treat you like you're a person and not a big ball of sadness.

Speaking of Kurt, he's at a loss. He wanders in and out of her room and offers a shoulder to cry on or an ear to bitch into or anything. He's not sure what to do when Quinn says she'd rather be left alone. Probably he knows she's hanging on by a thread, and probably he wants to help, but staying away doesn't exactly make for great aid.

She blames Kurt a little, too, even though she knows that's horrible because they all make mistakes. And like Rachel said, they're kids. They're not supposed to react with one hundred percent efficiency when facing a zombie. That's ridiculous. But still the fact remains that Finn's dead because Kurt made a completely understandable mistake. And Quinn reserves the right to be at least a little pissed about it.

Or a lot.

Or maybe so mad that when she sees him, sometimes she forgets to breathe until she reminds herself that it's really not his fault.

Will, Emma, and Sue stand together in Sue's office again. But this time it's not for an inane argument or a quip-fest that will probably end in argument or stony silence. It's a business meeting. A risk assessment.

"The kids aren't going to want to stay here anymore," Will insists passionately. There is no bite or mocking lilt to his voice. The time for petty rivalries has passed. "Especially not Quinn."

"So we risk all of our lives because Q's endured a trauma? We've all been through a trauma. Everyone out there still breathing and not chewing through gristle has lost someone." Sue softens for a brief moment, although you'd only know it if you knew her as well as Will unfortunately does. "I'm sorry, William. But we can't take that kind of risk. If we're going to go to Columbus, there needs to be a better reason. We would be risking everything. I didn't risk my cheerleading title for Q, I'm sure as hell not going to risk my life."

"We're risking everything by staying. We need to get to a place where we're safe. We shouldn't have to live like this."

"It's really not good for anyone," Emma insists dutifully. She is somewhat relieved to finally be one hundred percent on Will's side for something. Because even though the thought of making the trip to Columbus is daunting and not something she actually wants to do, she knows that it's better than the terrible alternative: doing nothing.

There are many things in the big wide germy world that Emma Pillsbury cannot abide. Standing by and doing nothing while the world falls apart is most definitely one of them.

"You kids have no idea how bad things can get out there," Sue growls.

"And neither do you, Sue! This isn't a PTA meeting or a newscast. None of us have experience in this. You can't keep pretending that you can control this situation. The armed forces couldn't control it! The government couldn't control it! Even big corporations apparently couldn't control it, and God knows they probably tried. Emma and I have talked about it…"

"Big surprise there."

"…And we've decided that we need to leave. Now, we want you to come with us, but we're leaving and we're taking the kids no matter what I decide to do."

"Good. Take the kids. I don't care. But you better leave those guns behind."

Will levels her a tolerant look. One that makes her blood boil. It's condescending and incredibly insolent, and she wants to smack that look off his face so fast he wouldn't have a clue what hit him.

"We still have a while before you have to make a decision. We're leaving tomorrow at noon."

He and Emma walk out, leaving Sue surrounded by her faded glory (measured in trophies of all shapes and sizes) protected in pristine conditions by outrageously expensive display cases.

If only people were so easy to keep out of harm's way.

Then Sue wouldn't have to find some way to tell William she'll go to Columbus without inflating his already-sizable head.