I take another swig. The liquid burns my throat on its way down. It's good. It's perfect. It's everything I didn't know I needed.
It's definitely nothing like the fancy shit I used to always steal from my dad's study when he was working.
It's the shit some cheap motherfucker gets in between trips from his dead-end job to his bitch of a wife.
Something to keep the ghosts away.
I don't know if it worked for the poor bastard who kept this bottle tucked away between his work schedules and inventory lists at the bottom of his desk but it sure as hell is working for me. I'm only on my second glass but I can feel the world start to blur around the edges.
The fire around the barbeque the rest of the group created flickers in the distance. They were so desperate to try out Artie's little invention and so desperate for a hot meal they all nearly came with excitement when Artie showed it to them. I have to be honest I'm a little excited for it myself. It's been so long since I've seen anything so beautiful, and so warm. But I refuse to go near it. Everyone else is gathered around it, they pulled chairs from the sports store and they sit around it tell stories and laugh like their on some twisted fucking camping trip. Rachel has thrown a mess of shit into a huge pot and hung it over the fire to cook.
Everyone seems to be enjoying whatever shit is in the pan. I'm going to take a pass on it today.
There's no reason for me to eat tonight. No reason to eat and waste some perfectly good liquor. Not when it's the only bottle I could find. After we run out I'm going to have to drink some of the pussy light beers the boys are throwing down or some terrible cheap wine that was stocked in the makeshift wine cellar in the basement of Breadstix. I really thought my favorite restaurant wouldn't have such terrible taste in alcohol. But what could I really have expected?
I feel the heat of a body next to me. I glance over to see Quinn sliding up onto the counter top. Her legs swing back and forth over the tile. She takes a short sip from the same glass of wine she has been milking for the past half hour.
"You probably should eat something before you down anymore of that." Quinn says in her commanding tone.
I meet Quinn's eyes before I swallow the rest of the whiskey in my glass win a single healthy gulp. I feel a sense of accomplishment at the way her eyes roll at me.
"I'm not hungry." I say. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and pour myself another glass from the quickly emptying bottle.
I can see her raise an eyebrow from the corner of my eye.
"I really don't think it's a good idea for you to drink so much of that." I cringe at the sound of Rachel's voice filling my ears.
I look up to see her studying me, she's holding a cup of what looks like fucking water in her hand. Over her shoulder I can see the blue eyes of Brittany watching me. I snap my eyes back to Rachel, I can feel heat filling my face.
"Did I ask for a fucking intervention?" I grab my bottle and glass and lower myself down from the counter, the whiskey in my glass sloshes around dangerously.
"I just don't think it's a great idea to get inebriated with the current state of things." Rachel says.
"I'm fine." I say. I march away from the pair before one or both of them wind up on top of the fire.
I find myself on the roof again. The darkness hides the walking corpses that I know are down there. It's more terrifying when you can hear them but can't see them. I can hear the scraping of bones and bodies parts dragging along the gravel. I can hear a scattered chorus of low moans that warns me of the death down there. And the smell. The smell is still the worst part. Even from all the way up here their stench fills my noise. I take another gulp of my whiskey in an attempt to dull my own senses.
Is this really all we have left? A life of hiding from these disgusting fucking things. There has to be other people out there. We can't be the only assholes out there lucky enough to stumble upon somewhere safe. I look out over the horizon but I see nothing but darkness. I've never seen darkness like this. No street lights, no car lights, just night.
I look over to where my house would have been but there's nothing but night over there. I don't think there was anyone else left in my neighborhood when I took off. Everyone made their way out when the television went out. I could hear the panicked voices echoing through the neighborhood as families rushed to pack their cars. I watched the Wilsons across the street. Mr. Wilson was tying some suitcases to the roof of the car, screaming at his wife to hurry up. They weren't listening to anything the television said, they weren't packing light and their car was completely full and I didn't see any food or water being packed inside. Not to mention the fact that Mr. Wilson was bellowing to his wife.
I watched the bodies descended upon him, one was locked onto his arm before he know what hit him. There were three ripping open his stomach by the time his wife came out of the house. She just stood there screaming until one of the bodies finally looked up.
I didn't want to watch anymore, I fell back against the window and listened as her screams lessened to a gurgling sound and then stopped all together.
A couple of days later I swore I saw what was left of Mrs. Wilson's face when a body staggered by my window. I tried to never look at their faces again after that.
They aren't people anymore, I had to remember that.
"Santana?"
My entire body jumps. Whiskey sloshes over my glass and falls all over my hand.
I wipe the liquor off my body.
"I didn't mean to scare you." The voice is gentle and careful. For some reason I find the moaning bodies down below less terrifying than the sight that stands behind me.
"Are you okay?" I can feel Brittany's body inching closer to me as she speaks. I swallow the spit lodged in my throat and look at the darkness that surrounds me. I'm stuck here on this rooftop with her and there's nowhere I can go, there's nowhere for me to run.
I finish my glass and steel myself before I turn back to face her. She's a lot closer than I expected her to be, we nearly butt heads.
She takes a step back to give me my space.
"How are you?" She asks. Her face is illuminated in the dim moonlight and I can see the concern in her blue eyes and it makes everything worse. It makes me feel worse. People aren't supposed to care. it makes all of this easier. It makes all my decisions easier.
"I'm fine." I can feel my voice betraying my words. I need more alcohol.
Where did I put the fucking bottle?
I look at my feet for the brown bottle, I know I put it somewhere but it's so hard to fucking find anything in this darkness. I whip around and find it on the edge of the roof. I reach for it but it falls from my fingers and gravity pulls it forward. I reach for it but my movements are way too fast for my drunk ass and I start to stumble forward, following the bottle. I'm about to plunge forward and towards the moaning corpses on the ground below.
Warm hands wrap around my waist just as I hear the glass of the bottle smash against the cement. Strong arms pull me back until I gain my footing. I look up to those blue eyes that seem to glisten even in the tiny sliver of light that the piece of the moon casts down on us. My breath catches in my throat and my heart starts to race for all the wrong reasons. I can feel the warmth of her fingers. I can smell the sweet smell on wine on her breath.
I don't know who moves first but before my body can process the heat flowing through it my lips are moving against hers. The kiss is desperate at first but they flow against each other like they belong together. Her touch is burning and soothing at the same time, her fingers tightened against my waist and I push against her as I deepen the kiss.
It's one of the only things that feels so right and so perfect in this shitty mess of a world.
No.
I push off her and stumble backwards falling back on my ass.
My heart thumps against my chest. This isn't something that can happen. I can't get attached to someone. It'll just get one of us killed. And I can't let my libido get the better of me.
I push up to my feet, struggling against the fog of alcohol to finally stand up straight and meet her eyes. Her blue eyes are hidden behind the furrowed brow.
The corpses below moan in anticipation as they make their way towards the source of the noise in search of their next feed.
"You can't do shit like that." I say.
"Help you?" She says.
"Touch me." I say.
"Santana." She says my name gently and takes a step forward.
I stumble backwards nearly falling on my ass again. "And don't fucking say my name like that."
"Like what?" She plants her feet and stares right through me.
"Like you know me." I say. "You don't fucking know me. We aren't a thing. We can't be."
"Why can't we be?" She says. "I don't think anyone would have a problem with it. I'm pretty sure Kurt's very gay." She whispers the last part like it's a secret to anyone.
I dark laugh creeps up through my lips and out my mouth. "You think I give a fuck what those people think?"
"Then why can't we-"
I hold my hand to silence her. "Because of that."
The moans are louder now, more of the bodies must have come to investigate the source of the noise.
"Because of those fucking things." I say. "The world isn't fucking rainbows and kittens. You all need to stop fucking pretending like it is."
I try my hardest not to look back at those blue eyes before I push the door open and stumble down the stairs.
/* Author's Note: Thanks to all that read and Review and follow. I love that you guys enjoy this story. It's so much fun to write. Happy St. Patty's Day and Happy Walking Dead Day!*/