Brittany's stomach growled like Lord Tubbington did when their neighbor brought her poodle over. Shivering, she drank some more hot water, and huddled closer to Kurt, who did the same.

It'd been snowing constantly the last two days. Kurt had told her everything he knew about cars, and a lot of other stuff, and she'd shared her knowledge on motocross, knitting, training animals (he'd totally be able to help her train the puppies now) and sex. She knows a lot about sex, and while Kurt was embarrassed at first, eventually he conceded that she knew her stuff when it came to sex with boys that could be useful to Kurt and Blaine. He'd cut her off when she started talking about sex with girls though.

She'd tried to explain the numbers to him, in a moment of super super boredom, but he'd just looked at her like she had suddenly started speaking French instead of English.

Which was silly, her Spanish was way better than her French, except her French kissing was better than her Spanish kissing.

They had run out of food yesterday, and they were both really really hungry.

She wanted to try searching the neighboring trailers. Kurt thought they'd get lost, and be too cold without the stove, that they'd be fine if they had water.

And they did, because they were melting and boiling the fluffy white clean looking snow they collected from a window -the snow was tall enough to reach easily.

At least the zombies were frozen; that thought alone had made Kurt happy.

That made her think of something. "Hey Kurt?"

"Yes Brittany?" he replied tiredly.

"Why don't we go find food, then get to the cars since all the zombies are frozen?"

He sat up, and looked at her with his mouth slightly open, before saying, "Brittany, you are brilliant. After we get some food in us, and it's stops snowing long enough, we can bundle up in blankets and walk to the cars, then find Blaine and everyone, and get the hell out of this town!"

She smiled at him, and cuddled closer.

It felt good to know that they could find everyone as soon as it stopped snowing and they found some food.

Her stomach growled again, and she sighed quietly, then asked Kurt, "What fashion makers do you think are still alive? And what do you think their apocalypse spring fashions are going to look like?"

"Designers. And Jean-Paul Gaultier, definitely. I don't know if he's somewhere designing clothes, Brittany, but if he is? I don't care what we have to do, I want to get my hands on them; I was only ever able to get one piece of his but it'd have to be easier now. And Marc Jacobs's clothing would be great too..."

Kurt started babbling about clothes, and Brittany tuned him out.

She cuddled up into the bedding, wishing she had Lord Tubbington to keep her toes warm. Although, it was way better he was with Tiffany, keeping her toes warm.

"Hey Broadway," Santana called from where she was sitting up cocooned in blankets, Tiffany and Lord Tubbington sitting next to her. Rachel grit her teeth, and put another piece of wood onto the fire before turning to Santana.

Her fever had broken, and Rachel was surely glad the fish medicine had worked. Truly. But Santana was certainly being…Santana. In the two days since Rachel had gathered Santana, Kyle, and Beth then returned back to the rest of the children, Santana after she had woken up, had made it her mission seemingly to punch Rachel for saving her life.

Rachel knew if the situations were reversed, she would have been nothing but exceedingly kind to Santana; gratefulness for saving her life, and the lives of her charges would have made her attempt to endure herself to Santana. She would have owed Santana, known it, and spent the rest of their lives trying to repay her.

Santana apparently did not feel the same way.

Santana put her mug out, and shook it mockingly at Rachel, grinning as Rachel, with a bit of a huff, snatched it, quickly made Santana a cup of tea.

"Now Broadway," Santana drawled, "how do you not know I prefer two sugar cubes in my tea by now?"

Rachel grit her teeth even harder, and silently seething inside, handed the mug to Sarah and made Santana a new one.

Last cup of tea she'd made Santana, the Latina girl had demanded three sugar cubes.

"Santana, I-" Rachel was interrupted by Chris letting out a cry of outrage, and smacking Beth's face with the stuffed animal in his hands.

Beth proceeded to cry.

That was another thing; five children in her, and only her, care in addition to Santana was simply taxing. The children were full of energy, and needed more entertainment then she could provide them. It was good; it meant that they were not as horrible affected by their situation as Rachel had feared. On top of that, two toddlers who were constantly fighting with each other, and Rachel was just about ready to cry herself.

Well, she had last night in bed, as quietly as she could, in fact.

Her sunburn, gained from her trek through the snow, was painful still, the children had been bickering and complaining about yet more corn bread and both Chris and Beth had to be changed multiple times and really needed a proper bath. It'd been too much, and she'd needed the release of crying, she was barely hanging on to her sanity and hope that they others would find them.

"Broadway?" Stacy asked, with a frown at the toddlers.

And of course, the children had picked up Santana's new nickname for her.

She tried to gently correct them every time one of them said it.

Tried. Sometimes she did not manage it. And it was not helping much anyway, since Santana was un-relentless about calling her that.

Broadway. Every time, it sent a sliver of a dagger through Rachel's heart. Which was the point, of course. Obviously Santana knew what she was doing calling Rachel that, and encouraging the children to do so as well.

It was painful, especially that Santana did not seem to care at all how hurtful it was.

It was just all so pointless; in the world they lived in, couldn't they let go of petty grudges from high school? They had enough going on without making each other miserable.

"Rachel, please. Or Ms. Berry if you would prefer to be overtly formal, Stacy," Rachel sighed, then gave the girl a small smile.

"It's my turn with the bear, but Kyle won't let me have it," Stacy pouted, lips quivering, and Rachel internally cringed. Children cried over the stupidest things.

Your parents are dead, and you are stuck in a lumber yard with other children, and some teenagers. Cry about that instead of someone wearing the leggings you wanted, or you've already read one of the handful of books there was on hand or some other stupid petty reason. She swore that Beth had cried over the color bowl she was using earlier in the day.

Honestly.

The bear skin rug Kyle had insisted Rachel take with her from Santana's hideout had proven to be very popular with them all. Even Rachel would grudgingly admit it was warm, and the fur was lovely to pet, even if she was morally against hunting. She'd kept it on Santana most of the time, but now that Santana was much more awake, had allowed them to take turns with it with the caveat that they do not dirty or destroy it.

"I believe it is my turn, Stacy," Rachel gave the girl her best, nicest stage smile, then added, "Perhaps you would like to color?"

It was not Rachel's turn, but she was so tired of dealing with the children's petty squabbles.

"Chris and Beth broke all the crayons," Sarah pointed out from next to Beth.

"That is unfortunate that the crayons are not their proper size, but they are still usable, are they not?" Rachel said to both of them.

Stacy nodded, frowning, and after a moment, Sarah nodded too, before pulling Beth into a hug, giving Chris (who was now chewing on the stuffed animal's ear) a look.

"Stacy! Sarah! Tiff!" Stevie, Kyle behind him, came running towards them from where Rachel had moved their bathroom area to the farthest corner of the covered area. "It's stopped snowing! Let's go play!"

The three girls stood up, Tiffany helpfully help Chris up, and Rachel frowned, "I do not know if that's the best idea?"

"Aw, Broadway, let 'em go have some fun, it'll tire them out at least," Santana snipped.

Rachel sighed, she couldn't argue with that, "Very well. Please bundle up as best you can," When Sarah started pulling Chris's hoodie onto Beth, Rachel added, "Chris and Beth will stay here. It is much easier for children to regulate their temperature then toddlers." She had no idea if that was true, but it sounded good.

"Well, maybe I'll stay here?" Sarah said reluctantly. She had been a huge help to Rachel these last few days; likely too much help, but Rachel had no choice until Santana was stronger than to rely on Sarah.

"Thank you, but I think Santana and I can manage without you for ten minutes or however long it takes all of you to get cold and come back. Otherwise I shall collect you when it's time to return to the warmth. Please, join the others and have some fun." Sarah nodded, then without another word to Rachel, started pulling on her shoes.

Rachel sighed again. Even the children didn't like her.

"Remember not to go out the gate," she called softly as the five children headed away from their lean-to, Lord Tubbington trailing behind them. His ears were back, and she wondered if that meant he was hungry. She'd only been giving him half a can of sardines a day; wanting the food to last in case they needed it themselves, and whatever he managed to hunt up for himself. She felt bad about it, truly, but she it hadn't taken her long to decide he could stand to lose some weight anyway and it was important the children have the sardines in case Rachel wasn't able to go out for supplies soon.

She should go out in search of more supplies in a day or so. Perhaps even later today, who knew how long until the snow started falling again. Attempting to find some sign of the others, to give them all hope, would not be a horrible idea as well, especially if it was on her way to find supplies. She had seen the direction Brittany and Kurt, as well as Quinn and Blaine, had gone.

Once the children had scampered off and were no longer in direct eyesight, Rachel turned back to Santana.

"Please stop it," she said evenly.

"Stop what Berry?"

"I know you do not like me, that you never have, and likely never will. I've accepted that long ago. But given that I crossed through a snow storm for you, not to mention have cared for you, including cleaning you when you have soiled yourself," Santana flinched at that, and Rachel tried not to take too much pleasure at finally getting some back at her, "The least you could do is not make an already difficult situation that much more difficult."

"Spit it out."

"At the least, please stop calling me Broadway. It's cruel, you know it. You may as well…." Rachel sighed, so suddenly tired. She set a stuffed animal next to Beth, then picked up a blanket one of the children had left haphazardly on the ground, and started folding it. "Just, please Santana. I do not know why you are so upset I saved you, nor do I have the energy to speculate, just plea-."

She was interrupted by screams. Desperate, fearful screams.

Rachel dropped the blanket she was holding, the words she planned to finish saying to Santana dying in her throat, and raced towards the children, grabbing her hatchet on the way.

She met a sobbing Tiffany, who was being nudged forward by Lord Tubbington, and stammered out to her, "Go to Santana!" as she leaped past the crying girl.

The sight before her made her gasp and stumble a bit as she moved out of the covered area into the snow.

One of the zombies that had killed Matilda and Gloria was ripping into poor sweet Stacy's flesh.

Sarah was holding Stevie back. Both were screaming.

Kyle was frantically trying to use his inhaler as he scrambled away from the gruesome sight.

The hunter was sitting over the girl's body, ripping pieces of her midsection and pulling it to his mouth, where he chewed noisily.

They had not frozen? Why had the zombie not froze!?

"Rachel? What's going on?" Santana called out as Rachel crossed the few feet towards the gruesome sight, trudging through the snow, not even noticing the icy cold hitting her bare legs and sock covered feet.

The hunter -he'd been a teenage boy once upon a time, and was still clad in a letter man jacket, looked up at her, Stacy's blood covering his face.

He growled, and started to make an effort to stand, and regardless of the snow, she pushed herself to go faster. She lifted the hatchet, and brought it down on his head before he'd finished standing up. Over and over and over until it was nothing but a mass of brain and blood and zombie goo in the snow.

She fell backwards, and sat in the snow, staring at Stacy's body. She could only hope that the girl had died quickly, and painlessly from shock.

"It…it jumped over the fence…" Sarah whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Stevie pulled out of Sarah's grasp, and ran to his sister. He turned back to Sarah hotly, "Why didn't you let me go? I could have…"

"It would have got you too! Dummy!" Sarah spat, then started sobbing.

Stevie fell to his knees, and started crying his heart out next to his sister's body.

Rachel had failed.

Everyone was surely going to hate her, and kick her out of the group. She'd be alone, on her own trying to survive by herself.

A child was dead because Rachel had let Santana get to her; Santana was Santana, and would always be. Rachel had held up to Santana's worst with the entirety of their high school backing her, helping to make Rachel miserable, but Rachel couldn't handle her now?

And now a child was dead because Rachel was weak.

She stared at Stacy's body, the black fluid leaking from the girl's mouth and eyes, her skin already starting to redden.

Stacy was going to turn.

Stevie was still kneeled in the snow, crying his eyes out, next to his sister's corpse.

She would not lose another under her protection and care today. Ever.

Rachel had barely finished that thought before Stacy's mouth opened wider, and what had been previously a sweet little girl, snarled, hungry. Not at all recognizing that was her brother, who only two days ago had been so relieved and happy to see him.

Stevie fell backwards, staring wide eyed at his sister.

In a sight that would haunt Rachel's nightmares for a very long time, Stacy reached out towards Stevie, grasping for his flesh. Then the zombie started wiggling back in forth in a grotesque mockery of an infant trying to crawl as it struggled to get towards Stevie.

As Rachel sat frozen for a second, realized that the hunter zombie likely broke Stacy's spine, and thus the zombie couldn't stand up or move very well, if at all.

Another second was wasted wondering how much pain Stacy had been in as she died before Rachel struggled to get up out of the snow, to take care of the corpse before it killed Stevie too.

Santana Lopez was a bitch. She knew it. She was other things too, a bad ass, great lover, amazing singer, and a bunch of other stuff, but when people first saw her? They knew she was a bitch.

She'd been so pissed off Rachel freaking Berry had saved her. First, it was Rachel Berry. Treasure Trail. Hobbit. Yentl. Dwarf. Midget. RuPaul. And a zillion other mean things.

Second, Santana's fever dreams had been about Brittany, about the rest of the glee club; everything was normal, her family wasn't dead, the world wasn't screwed up.

It was nice.

And Rachel had taken her away from them, from that life, fake as it was. Santana hadn't wanted to wake up to the crappy reality they were in.

So yeah, Santana was a bitch. It wasn't fair to Rachel, it wasn't fair at all.

She couldn't help it.

What else was she going to do? Cry and sob like a baby like Rachel had done last night? To give the hobbit credit, she'd tried to be quiet about it; Santana's probably been the only one to realize Rachel was crying.

But alright, if Rachel wanted to not be called Broadway any more, Santana'd stop. Mostly. But she would, for sure, get the kids to stop calling Rachel that.

Hopefully, Santana thought, as she hobbled weakly after Rachel, the kids were just playing some dumb game or a prank on Rachel, and weren't in any sort of danger or anything. They'd been getting increasingly hostile to her; not outright, but it was getting obvious they were tired of her being in charge. Santana would talk to them about that too.

Those reassuring thoughts flew away as a fat cat and a sobbing almost five year old ran up to her. Tiffany flung herself at Santana, and Santana wrapped her arms around the blonde girl. Frowning, Santana called out to Rachel, asking what was going on, but received no answer.

Finally, she pulled away from Tiffany, "Take Tubby and go sit with Chris and Beth, okay? It's okay to cry if you want, but make sure they stay away from the fire. They're really little, and you're a big girl, and I need you to watch out so they don't get hurt, okay? Make me proud. We'll be fine. I love you." Tiffany nodded, tears trailing down her face, but looking a little more calmer now that she had a task, and Santana pulled her in for a hug, then gently pushed her towards their camping spot.

Clutching her blanket closer, wishing she was wearing more clothes under it, she weakly followed after Rachel.

She didn't hear any more screaming, at least.

Just crying.

She made it to the end of the covered area just in time to watch Rachel sit backwards into the snow, the hatchet forgotten as around them the children cried. Rachel was covered in blood and gore.

Santana felt weak, and a little shaky, and her blanket wasn't doing jack to keep her warm compared to her cozy bed next to the fire.

It was pretty damn easy to figure out what had happened in the minute it'd taken Santana to get up and follow Rachel.

God. Poor Stacy. And Stevie had seen it all.

What was she going to tell Sam?

Stacy twitched, black goop streaming from her mouth and eyes. Santana opened her mouth to scream a warning at Stevie, as Rachel struggled to stand up out of the snow. Stevie had seen it to, and scrambled backwards, still sobbing, as his sister started reaching for him.

Santana could only stare, open mouthed, as Rachel finally stood up, and then without hesitation, brought the hatchet down on Stacy's -the zombie's head, until sh- it stopped moving.

Then Rachel dropped the hatchet in the snow, and sat backwards, staring off into the distance.

Santana swallowed hard. She didn't think she'd have the balls to do what Rachel just done. Santana stared at Stacy's still form, then at Stevie's still sobbing form.

Nope.

If it had been Santana out there, instead of Rachel, she would have hesitated, or something and Stevie would have been dead too.

Then they'd have two child zombies for Santana to not be able to put down.

Santana wiped at her teary eyes, then stepped hesitantly in the snow, wincing as the cold soaked through the socks she was wearing.

"Sarah, Kyle," she called, her voice weak, "Get Stevie and go by the fire." The other two children were crying, and while Santana understood, she did, they needed to get to the warmth, and away from where they were just in case there were more of the super zombies lurking. "Now," she added sharply. That made the two children, still crying, move. Stevie clung to Kyle, ignoring Sarah, and the trio went back towards their shelter.

Rachel was still staring blankly at nothing.

Great. She, the zombies, watching a little girl get munched on, then having to get up close and personal with that girls head and a hatchet, had broke something in Rachel Berry. Something that Santana wasn't sure could be fixed.

She stepped closer to Rachel, avoiding looking at Stacy's remains, or the jock zombie that'd ate her, and doing her best to avoid stepping in blood and zombie gunk, then crouched down to Rachel.

"Hey, Berry, now's not the time to have a breakdown."

Rachel ignored her, or more accurately probably didn't even hear her.

Crap.

"Rachel, please. The kids need you," Santana swallowed hard again, and looked away, up towards the cloud covered sky, "I need you. And I'm sorry I've been a cunt. I…I couldn't have done what you just did, you know. Stevie, and hell, the rest of us except maybe Tiffany would have been zombie buffet if it was up to me. I just couldn't…you're stronger then I am. I have no freaking clue how you've managed to keep things together as long as you have…you're just stronger than me." She repeated, then added, "Must be that same drive you had to be on Broadway. We all knew you'd get there, you know, even if we took your solos and slushied you four times a day, one day you'd be a star and we'd be living our super normal lives, telling people we went to school with you. "

It hurt a bit, to admit all that, especially to Rachel Berry. It was a funny kind of hurt like, like when your foot fell asleep or you banged your funny bone on something.

After a few moments, Santana was shivering a bit now. She added, "I'm really cold Rachel, and you gotta be too. You aren't even wearing pants."

"Santana." Rachel's voice, low and quiet, made Santana look at the smaller girl again. "I accept your apology. Please do not use that word around me again, and certainly not where the children can hear you."

"I- okay Rachel. Promise."

"I shall hold you to that promise," Rachel said, standing up, and picking up the hatchet.

"I always keep my promises. Always. My second favorite grandma always said, 'Promises are like babies; easy to make, hard to deliver.' Which was also her sex talk," Santana said. After a moment's hesitation, eyeing the gore, blood, an zombie goop Rachel was covered in, she offered some of her blanket to Rachel.

"Thank you, but our laundry situation is dire enough without adding to it. I am afraid I'm going to have to burn this sweater," Rachel looked down at her owl sweater sadly.

"Best thing for it, I mean, it's an owl sweater" Santana said, then added, "I bet we can find you more. Hell, we'll get you ten like it."

"In the over grown toddler section?" Rachel said lightly, a sad smile on her face as they walked around Stacy's body.

"Yeah," Santana said sadly, "What are we going to do with her body?"

"I do not know yet. We can't bury her, and I think burning a body will require fuel we do not have, unless perhaps we use up a fair amount of the wood, even then I don't know how long that'd take. Perhaps just cover it in snow until…"

"We think of something better?" Santana added for her when Rachel trailed off.

"Yes."

"This is unfair bullshit," Santana spat out, clinching her fists, fingers digging into her blanket.

"I know you are not angry at me, but the children might not realize you are mad at the situation, Santana," Rachel's quiet voice said as they stepped onto the cement.

Santana nodded, her anger deflated, "Let's get back to them, get something warm into us all. God, they're all going to have nightmares. Hell, we are too probably."

"I can handle whatever happens tonight, Santana."

"No, I can do kid dream duty Rachel. I'm not totally useless."

Rachel stopped, lightly gripping Santana's wrist to stop her too.

"Santana, you are ill, and you need to rest. You should not have been out of bed, let alone half naked with me in the snow. In a few days, perhaps, but for now? You rest. As you said, I am strong, I can handle things."

"I'm going to be at least on toddler duty Berry," Santana said, grinning, "I feel like me and Beth have a connection."

"You mean a shared love of wanton destruction and getting into fights?" Rachel said primly, "You may have Tiffany, Kyle, and Beth duty, unless that proves too much for you, then you may have just Tiffany and Kyle."

"Thanks, I'll help out as best I can…" Santana couldn't stop thinking about Sam. What the hell was she going to tell him? How was she going to make this up to him? She couldn't, except by making sure nothing happened to Stevie too, even that wouldn't be enough.

"Of that, I have no doubts Santana. Now, let us hurry up. The children need us, and we need the fire. And I desperately need to be as clean as possible." Reluctantly, Santana leaned on Rachel for support, touching only the clean parts of the other girl, ignoring the fact, as she had since she'd first seen Rachel Berry, that she was only a few inches taller then the brunette and it was super easy to lean on her.

The pair made their way back to the children silently.

"They're still out there," Blaine sighed, and tucked blanket corner he was holding open to peer outside back against the wall, "I'm sorry, I think they can hear Dahlia and that's why they aren't going away."

The zombies had broken though the backdoor and shoddy blockade and poured into the backyard, surrounding them and the tree house sometime during their first day in it. They'd been okay in the tree house; almost comfortable, if it weren't for the constant need to keep the propane stove on 24/7, and the embarrassing awkwardness of using the bucket when one of them had to use the bathroom.

Quinn rolled her eyes, "If I had a dollar bill every time you've apologized needlessly, I'd have enough money to burn to keep us warm for an entire night," she took a sip of her hot chocolate, and gazed at Dahlia, who was sleeping in their makeshift bed, "We're warm, fed, watered and fine. Either they'll freeze eventually, they have to right? Or it'll snow enough to cover them up completely or we can take our chances with the limb. But for now? We're fine here for a few more days."

Blaine frowned, and shook his head, "I think we're going to run out of propane soon…it feels really light, and we have been running it near constantly for the last few days. And we're almost out of formula and diapers. We can keep the stove on super low and probably be fine, but…."

"So fine. We take advantage of the break in the snow, climb the tree, hop onto the roof, and get down the other side of the house, and run back towards town and the cars, and find the others," Quinn wrinkled her nose at him, and took another sip of her drink.

"No, Quinn, it's just too risky. I can climb down, and get them to follow me out of the house and around the block, then come back. They're slow enough that we'll have enough time to get away."

"No way," Quinn said, gritting her teeth, "That's too risky for you. What if you slip? What if you can't find your way back? No way." She repeated, shaking her head for emphasis.

"I just want you and my sister to be safe," Blaine replied softly, looking down at his sister.

"And I want us all safe," Quinn sighed, "Don't you want to see Kurt? Rachel? Everyone?" She set her mug down on the ground, carefully avoiding the stain the zombie had left on the floor while it was trapped in here, and stood up. In several quick steps, she was at the window next to the door. She pulled the curtain up, and pointed, "Look. That branch goes right over the roof Blaine. It's huge, big enough to walk on. We pack up everything in the diaper bag and a backpack, or just both backpacks, whatever, use that sheet as a sling for Dahlia again and take things really slow. I've probably got the best balance, so I should take Dahlia maybe?" She mused. There'd been a lot of down time in the tree house, Quinn had had plenty of time to study the tree, the yard, the house.

It was easier then thinking about Beth and the others.

"Quinn…of course I..Quinn," Blaine stood up, and pointed, "There's a light. There's a car out there."

Quinn dropped the makeshift curtain after seeing the blurry glare of the headlights herself, and started pulling on her boots.

"We can set the stove, turn it up all the way on the porch? Or…the flashlight?" Blaine, continued, and started looking around for the large mag light they'd found in one of the boxes, and grinned when he found it. He turned it on, and went back to the window, started turning it off and off rapidly as Quinn finished lacing her boots.

Quinn pulled on the big jacket she'd found for Blaine, then turned towards the door. "We can't risk whoever it is not seeing the light Blaine. I'm going out there."

"What? No. Quinn, it's too dangerous. I'll go, I'll…" He trailed off as she hefted up her dependable cast iron pan in one hand, and snatched the mag light out of his other hand.

"Nope, too late!" She called, near giddy with excitement as she went out the door and onto the porch, "I'll be okay Blaine. We'll be okay."

She didn't care if that was a vengeful Frannie driving an army tank; whoever in the vehicle was going to help them, even if it was just giving them a ride to the cars.

Gripping the light and pan tightly in each hand, she crossed the porch and climbed over the rail carefully. Taking a moment to get her balance, she started walking slowly along the snow covered tree limb.

Blaine had followed her out of the tree house, and silently watched her.

She didn't have to look at him to see that he was worried.

She kept her eyes on the steps ahead of her, only daring to check the headlights after every fourth step. Whoever was driving the vehicle was going as slow as molasses through the deep snow.

Good.

She finally reached the spot on the branch that was over the roof, and after taking a deep breath, she jumped down. She slid a little in the snow, but caught herself, and took a tentative step forward, sliding a little more in the snow with each step. She took a deep breath of cold air, and took more tentative steps forward.

She didn't have to look down at the zombies in the yard to know that they were all watching her, hungrily. She'd be dead if she fell, even if she was uninjured. There had to be over fifty zombies just in the backyard.

Balancing carefully with the items in her hands, she stepped slowly on the roof, slipping a little before she caught herself.

Taking slow, terribly slow, steps, she walked up the roof, barely breathing, avoiding the part where there was no roof at all. Hopefully any more parts of the roof that would collapse, would have done it from the snow already.

Finally, she was at the peak, and she, with a grimace, stepped over the peak to the other side.

Her feet slide out from under her, and she fell onto her butt, and slide down the other side of the roof.

She landed in the snow with a cold shock to the system, and a jolt of pain through her bad ankle, but she didn't have time to think about any possible injuries as she struggled to stand up.

The zombies had noticed her.

Luckily, they were even slower because of the snow on the ground. Unluckily, so was Quinn. And there's was always the possibility that the super hunter zombies were lurking around. Quinn had killed one, but who knew where the rest were

She managed to stand up eventually. One zombie was close enough to her that she had to smack the pan against it's head a couple of times before she started going as fast as she could away from the yard towards the road. The truck's light's guided her as she trudged through the front yard, just managing to avoid zombie's reaching out for her.

She could hear them start to follow her.

Good. That'd get them away from Blaine and Dahlia.

The truck was red.

Like Puck's truck.

Not daring to allow herself to hope, she fought her way through the snow towards the road.

Once on the road, she started she was able to start running on the snow flattened by the truck's tires, slipping and sliding, but always managing to right herself before she fell.

The zombies were able to go faster too.

Madly, she started pushing the button on and off on the mag light, hoping to catch the driver's attention. She'd have to run back to town if the truck didn't notice her, or try and get back to the tree house.

The truck stopped.

She slid the rest of the way forward, hitting the bumper with a thump. Dropping the pan in the back of the truck, close enough to grab it if she needed, she used that hand to hold onto the sides of the truck bed. Fingers even colder on the metal, she caught her breath as the driver's door opened, gripping the truck like the lifeline it was, knowing she had a few minutes before the zombies caught up to her.

To them.

"Quinn?"

He looked like the last four days had aged him four years. She supposed she looked the same too, or probably worse. Staring at him a bit more, she suddenly noticed his nose was swollen and crooked, and one of his eyes was black and tender looking. His face would likely look worse if she had her glasses or contacts.

She stared at him, shivering, and said, "Hi Sam."