13:57
A/N: Back from hiatus! Hurray! Sorry that lasted so long. I'm going to try to be better, but I'll be honest, exams start next week and I haven't even started outlining. Hmmm. . .
Sam is wearing a red shirt underneath his blue button-down. It's the most that Quinn will let him get away with, refusing to let him tie on a cape, or anything similar. Which he kind of understands. . .it's not like he has superpowers, or anything. But he still feels a little bit like a hero. . .leaving the bunker, and going forth into the world.
He frowns a little, trying to remember why, exactly, he is leaving the bunker. It will be nice to get into the sun, but. . .his hand is moving reflexively, a practiced motion, and a moment later he pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of his back pocket. It's scrawled all over, different colors of ink clashing on the paper.
You have no short term memory. There was a nuclear war. Some people are still trapped outside. You are going to save them. You do not have super powers. Don't touch Quinn's skin – use the wax lips. Jesse st. James is sketch. Have fun at McKinley!
Hm. . .He frowns, and puts the paper back in his pants pockets. That's superweird. Then again, all of the best superheroes have something holding them back, some weakness. Kind of sucks that he can't remember stuff, though.
He leans back in the passenger seat of the van. He tries to glance at everyone else without them noticied – until he sees that the only people there are himself, Quinn, and some weird guy he doesn't know. So he settles for staring at Quinn, instead.
She looks beautiful, and his fingers itch to reach out and clutch her hand. The light, which is painting everything else orange and freaky-looking – kind of like an alternate Pandora, except instead of everything being vibrants greens and blues it's industrial and creepy. So really, nothing like Pandora at all. But the light, which is making everything disturbing and dead looking, is only making Quinn look more lovely, falling across her cheeks and accenting the highlights in her hair. Sam can remember when they dated, and he can remember when they broke up. He remembers kissing her at prom, and getting back together. He remembers riding with her in the bus. . .
He wonders what he did between that trip to Nationals and now that means he can't touch her at all.
The weird guy snaps his fingers, breaking into Sam's reverie. He crows triumphantly, throwing his head back so his weird, overgelled waves flop all over. "It happened again!" he said. "oh my god. . .every two hours. It's like clockwork."
"Shut up, Jesse," Quinn says, her tone hard and sharp. Sam winces at the sound of it. It's her Head Bitch in Charge voice, her Head Cheerleader voice, her I'm a Fabray, Now Suck It, Nerd voice. He's not such a fan of it. Jesse, however, doesn't seem to mind. He leans forward and extends a hand.
"I'm Jesse st. James," he says. "We're total besties."
"Really?" Sam asks. He remembers the paper in his back pocket, and doubts very much that they are friends at all. "Not sure I buy that. . ."
"Don't," Quinn says shortly, before turning and smiling at him, the kind of gentle smile that reminds him of daffodils and pink sunrises. She turns back around, focusing her eyes on the road. There aren't any other cars, Sam notes. Or rather, there are, but they're all parked at the side. None of them are moving. He doesn't see any other people, either. He's about to ask what's going on, when he remembers the note again.
Nuclear war. Which explains the orange tint to the sky, the way everything seems to be coated with a thin, fine grey dust. And they're going to McKinley, to find other survivors. He brightens a little at this. He wonders if this is anything like Terminator. . .if the computers have taken over, and they're the last remnants of human civilization. On the one hand, that would be amazing. On the other, it means that he's forgotten more massive chunks of his life than he'd initially believed. He glances at his hands. They look like his hands, not overly hairy, or spotted, or old. And Quinn looks normal. He concludes that they're not living in a post-Judgment Day at all.
As Quinn pulls into the parking lot, Sam is hit with a sudden. . .a sudden soething. It feels like a memory, and seems like a memory, but he can't quite figure out where it would fit into the timeline of his life.
The halls of McKinley are empty. There's dust on tables. The doors suddenly fly open, and men walk in, wearing standard army gear. Dust motes fly in the air around them.
As suddenly as it came, it's gone, leaving Sam reeling a little in his seat. He's sure that's never happened. He's almost 99.9% positives. But there's still the tattered remnants in his head of what can't possibly be a memory. He shakes a little, blond hair flying everywhere. Quinn and Jesse have climbed out of the van already, and are waiting for him. Quinn isn't tapping her foot, but Sam thinks that she probably wants to. She's never been very patient.
McKinley looks the same. And it looks completely different. Sam shrugs a little uncomfortably as they walk through, though neither Quinn nor Jesse seems to notice anything. She's walking forward, with a clear purpose, while Jesse is just smirking at every wall. Sam is. . .Sam is looking at the cracks.
Were there always splotches of paint missing? Where the lockers always twisted that little bit, so they didn't fit together snugly? Were there always those cracks in the wall, and was the linoleum floor always so faded? Did his footsteps always ring so hollowly down the hallways?
The men spread out, moving with gestures. They move like an army.
He shakes his head again. Too weird. . .Quinn and Jesse have almost reached the end of the hallway. Sam wants to yell out and tell them that there's no one else here. But he thinks. . .there is. Or there was. Or there will be.
He remembers something from one of his English classes. Fear is the best teacher you ever had. Then again, he thinks with a frown, it might be from a Batman movie. Hmm. . .
"What are you waiting for, Sam?" Quinn asks.
They're holding guns. The men are holding guns, and they're lifting them, pointing at the pretty girl in front of them.
Sam's breathing fast now, because the not-memories are coming fast, and Quinn's face is swimming in front of him. He hears Jesse's laughter, but it's far away and thick, like its bubbled under water. What does that even mean?
Hey, Quinn.
Why aren't you sleeping?
Too much to do. Thanks for helping. Can you do me another favor?
Of course.
I know it's only around noon, but. . .does he glow?
"Sam?"
Quinn's hazel eyes are filling up his vision now. Past her, her sees the stuccoed ceiling of McKinley. He takes a deep breath, and the world steadies around him. There's something hard beneath him. He splays his fingers. Out. The floor.
Why is he lying on the floor?
"You just fainted," Jesse sneers. "Like a little girl."
"Jessie, shut up," Quinn snaps, and the other boys listens for once. Quinn reaches forward, and her hand almost caresses his cheek. Almost, before a look of pain crossed her face and she pulls her hand back. Sam sighs. "Are you okay?"
"I guess," Sam says. His head hurts, and there are still black spots dancing around, but he thinks if he stays put he'll be okay.
There's a quick rat-a-tat-tat as the guns fire. Chips fly from walls as bullets embed theselves, an inch deep, in concrete. She screams.
"What's going on?" Jesse asks. "He looks like he's having a seizure."
"Sam?" Quinn asks, and he tries to focus in on her eyes he tries so hard. . .
Radiation mutates genes, right? That's why it causes cancer so often. Mutations that can't stop. But what if it. . .what if it did something else to us?
That's what I was thinking. Everyone's changed. Puck can't feel pain. Artie can feel his legs. Quinn. . .
What about you?
Nothing. Finn, neither. We didn't get sick, and it seems that we didn't. . .mutate, either. No X-Men for us.
That's it. Sam's eyes fly open, and he's staring now at the top of the truck. He sits up, a little shakily. Quinn's driving again, and Jesse's sitting beside her. Sam swings his legs over the front. X-Men and Rogue and the wax lips. . .the men he'd seen in his not-dreams. . .it's all coming together and all making sense, except. . .
Except that he can't remember why he's in a car, with Quinn and some random guy he doesn't know. Reflexively, his hand reaches to his back pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. . .
A/N: Yes, it was short, sorry. Gotta get back into the groove. The plot thickens. . .and next chappie we'll return to Blaine and everyone, I promise.
COMING SOON: Kurt reunites with some old friends. Santana lets go of a secret, and Finn is confused. (Surprise, surprise)