Rachel's eyes flew open when she heard it. Them. The all-too familiar moaning of the infected, sending a bone-chilling tingle down her spine. Above the sound of shattering glass and animalistic groaning, she could barely make out the screams of her friends.
Oh, no. Rachel flew out of bed and snatched up her shotgun before flinging the door open.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood when she saw them streaming into the house through smashed windows and broken-down doors. A scream froze in her throat when several zombies dragged Kurt down to the floor, his gun continuing to fire even as they began to rip him apart.
Rachel stumbled when someone barreled past her. She watched dumbly as Santana leapt over the banister to land on top of a walker cornering Brittany, Puck following her into the fray wielding two handguns and a snarl on his face.
"Rachel!" Someone shouted. At hearing her name, Rachel snapped out of her shock. Quinn. Quinn needed her. Go help Quinn.
With her shotgun, Rachel blew off the head of the zombie coming toward her and leaped over the body in one smooth motion, spinning around in time to see Tina shrieking as she was overcome by the dead. Mike ran forward, roaring like a madman as he shot, hacked at, and otherwise pulverized the heads of the walkers in his way.
"Rachel!" She heard Quinn call her name again. Rachel looked around desperately, unable to find the other girl. She downed two more walkers, frantically avoiding their groping hands and blinking against the stench of rotten flesh.
And then it was all over in a blink of an eye. Rachel took in the carnage surrounding her— Finn sobbing above Kurt's mutilated remains, Mike's face contorted in silent anguish at the blood pooling around Tina's mangled throat. She didn't even have to look in the direction of Brittany's heartbroken wail to know what must have happened to Santana.
"Rachel!"
She turned around, relief flooding through her at the sight of Quinn unharmed. The other girl grinned brightly at her.
Rachel's tentative smile back immediately dropped when something tall reared up behind Quinn, fear making her stomach turn. No, oh no no no—
"QUINN!" Rachel finally screamed, sprinting toward her. Something twisted in her chest as a putrid mouth latched onto Quinn's neck, tearing apart delicate flesh and transforming the pleased smile on her face into agony—
Rachel's eyes flew open as she jolted up with a gasp, her heart threatening to pound out of her chest. She ignored the thin sheen of sweat covering her body and strained her ears for the sound of walkers. All seemed to be well, the still of early morning settling an outward tranquility over the house, but Rachel carefully peeked through the door before walking into the hallway.
"Nightmare. Just a nightmare," she mumbled to herself. "…because reality is so much better."
"First sign of insanity is talking to yourself," Santana informed her sleepily as she walked past from the bathroom.
"No, my first sign of insanity was saving your life. Remember when that happened?"
"…Touché. Now fuck off." Santana slammed the door of her and Brittany's room in Rachel's face.
Rachel rolled her eyes and went out on the deck, where Kurt had his feet up on the railing and the rifle cradled in his hands. She tried not to think about the way he had been killed in her dream and focused on the stubble darkening his jawline. "You need a shave, Kurt."
He yawned and looked at her grumpily. "Rachel, I don't even have moisturizer, never mind a razor. There's an unacceptable lack of toiletries in this house, end of the world or not."
"Duly noted. Where's Quinn?" Come to think of it, where had Quinn been last night? Rachel was sure she would've woken up if Quinn had returned to their room after her watch shift.
Kurt shrugged. "She was out here when Puck woke me up for my shift. I think they went downstairs."
The irrational flare of jealousy that bloomed in her chest startled Rachel. It disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving her to absentmindedly rub the spot above her heart.
"Are you okay?" Kurt eyed her warily.
"Fine," Rachel answered, turning around to wander downstairs. She wondered where that brief flood of emotion came from. Yes, she was fond of Puck, but more in the 'he's-a-good-guy-and-an-awesome-friend' kind of way. As for Quinn, she admired the other girl, but that was no excuse for her feelings to throw a tantrum. Rachel chalked up her wayward emotions to the last vestiges of protection lingering from her dream.
The smell of coffee enticed her into the kitchen, where Quinn was standing at the stove and cooking while Puck wolfed down what seemed like an entire carton of scrambled eggs. He waved hello, unable to speak with a full mouth.
"What are you doing?" Rachel asked, wrinkling her nose at the flecks of food covering Puck's face.
Quinn glanced at her. "Making breakfast. We have to get rid of all the perishable foods first, and I think the gas is going to get cut off pretty soon."
Rachel studied the dark circles underneath Quinn's eyes. Quinn raised an eyebrow in response and held out a mug. "Coffee?"
Rachel accepted it and took a sip. The awful taste startled her into spitting the coffee into the sink and scrub at her tongue with her sleeve. "Poison?!"
"It's lake water with instant coffee," Quinn said dryly. "Welcome to the apocalypse."
"Is that coffee?" Someone asked excitedly behind them as the rest of their friends trudged into the kitchen. Finn immediately sat down next to Puck and picked up a fork, joining him in shoveling food into his mouth as quickly as possible.
Rachel shrugged. "Sure."
Santana swiped a mug from her hands. Rachel opened her mouth to warn her, but the other girl had already taken a large gulp and immediately began choking. "What the fuck is this shit?"
"Let me try." Brittany reached out for the cup, pouting when Santana kept it out of her reach.
"Seriously, Britt, I think it's pure gasoline." Santana handed the cup to Finn. "Here you go."
"Uh, thanks."
"Everyone's up really early," Tina commented with a yawn.
"Yeah, something about the dead walking around just keeps you from sleeping in, you know?" Quinn said sardonically.
Mike frowned at her abrupt tone. "Hey, be nice."
Santana snorted. "Easy, Boy Chang. Tina's a big girl, I think she could handle Quinn's mood swings."
"I do not have mood swings!"
"You do, and we shouldn't have to deal with them," Finn said sharply. "We're all in this together—"
Santana whirled on him. "Do not give me any of that High School Musical bullshit. I shouldn't have to deal with your Pillsbury Doughboy face and general ineptness, but guess what? Life really fucking sucks right now!"
"What is your problem, Santana?" Finn tried to stand up, the anger on his face turning into shock when Brittany gripped his shoulder and pushed him back down into the chair.
"Back off," she warned, stepping protectively in front of Santana.
"Hey, Brittany, don't go pushing my boy around like that!" Puck protested.
"He wasn't 'your boy' when you called him a pussy behind his back," Quinn said sarcastically.
"You called me a what?" Finn made to lunge at Puck, recoiling when the other boy brandished his fork menacingly at him.
"Not my fault if it's true," Puck said defensively.
Rachel shot a glare at Quinn, clearly conveying who she thought was at fault for starting the fight. Quinn shrugged sheepishly.
Rachel rolled her eyes and raised her voice. "ENOUGH!"
Everyone winced at the volume and quieted down, turning to look at their ostensible leader.
Rachel continued, "I know you're all frustrated and tired and afraid—I am, too. But we can't take it out on each other because cooperation is essential. We need each other for survival. I'm sure I'll want to kill most of you in the upcoming months out of sheer aggravation, but I promise I won't, because you guys are all I have left. So can we please try to fight less and focus more on staying alive?"
She smiled at hearing murmurs of agreement, muttered apologies, and an exasperated "Fine!" from Santana. Everyone sat demurely around the table, mumbling thanks as Quinn set down plates of food.
Finn left with two plates, muttering something about bringing Kurt breakfast. Companionable silence reigned, punctuated by the sounds of forks scraping against the dishes and quiet chewing.
Rachel kept an eye on Quinn as they ate. The other girl looked exhausted, eyes drooping and stifling yawns throughout breakfast. A tired Quinn meant an unobservant Quinn, an unobservant Quinn could lead to a dead Quinn, and a dead Quinn could become an Undead Quinn. Rachel resolved to talk with the other girl.
After a silent meal, a quick game of rock-paper-scissors decided that Brittany and Santana would do the dishes. Rachel looked at her watch, the only way she had of telling time. "Meeting on the deck in ten," she informed everyone before they dispersed.
As Quinn walked past her, Rachel grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the nearest empty room, which happened to be the bathroom. Quinn stumbled in after her and whirled around with a scowl. "Wow, how about asking next time, Rachel?"
Rachel remained silent, too busy scanning Quinn from head to toe.
"Are you checking me out?" Quinn asked bemusedly.
"What? No! I mean, not that I wouldn't, I've already told you that you're the prettiest girl I've ever met, though of course you're more than your looks—"
"Rachel. Get to the point."
Rachel took a deep breath. "You look awful."
Quinn rolled her eyes. "Jeez, you really know how to flatter a girl."
"You're deflecting," Rachel accused. "Did you even get any sleep last night?"
"Of course I did. Best sleep of my life."
Now it was Rachel's turn to roll her eyes. "You're lying."
"How would you know? You don't know me," Quinn muttered.
"We're sleeping in the same bed, I think I would've noticed someone climbing into my bed in the middle of the night."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh." Rachel scowled. "So why aren't you sleeping? It's not helping any of us out if you're going to be exhausted all the time."
"Who is this 'us' you keep going on about?"
"Who else, Quinn? The Glee Club! We're a team!"
Quinn barked out a laugh. "Get a grip, Rachel. Society is breaking down before our eyes, and you think Glee Club is what's going to be left standing? Everything as we know it is now gone. Sure, everyone here will work together for now, but only as long as it benefits themselves. It's just human nature."
"Can't you have a little more faith in our friends?" Rachel snapped. "Nobody ran away during our previous confrontations with walkers—"
"You ran away, Rachel, let's not forget that! And in the supermarket, there was no place for anybody to run to! So no, I'm not going to have a 'little more faith in our friends,' not when I have no idea how anyone's going to react in life-or-death situations, not when it could possibly get me killed."
"Quinn, you're freaking out—"
"No, I'm stating the truth. If several zombies were chasing us and it came down to Brittany and me, Santana would put a bullet in my kneecap without even hesitating. Do you really think she wouldn't let us all die to save Brittany, or vice-versa? It's the same with Mike and Tina, or maybe even Finn and Puck—"
"That's what you're worried about? The buddy system?" Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Fine, I'll make you a deal. I'll watch your back if you watch mine. Okay?"
Quinn eyed her suspiciously. "You trust me that much?"
"Yes, because we're friends," Rachel said, pointedly stressing the last word.
Quinn rolled her eyes. "And how can I trust you?"
"See previous answer," Rachel deadpanned. "Besides, we've saved each other from becoming zombie food before. Nothing new, right?"
Quinn took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. "Okay. Yeah, I can do that." She paused. "It's not that I won't protect the others or don't trust them…but none of us have been really tested yet. Some people are just better suited for action than others. I don't know, I think lack of sleep makes me overly paranoid."
"Overly paranoid is good. I'd prefer overly paranoid watching my back than dangerously negligent," Rachel assured. "Now come on, I called everyone together for a meeting."
They were halfway up the stairs when Quinn muttered, "Nightmares."
"Excuse me?"
"You asked me why I couldn't sleep. When I close my eyes, I can see them everywhere, hear them coming for us." Quinn shot her a defiant look, daring her to laugh.
Rachel only nodded somberly. Fucking nightmares.
-000-000-
"So what's the plan?" Puck asked lazily as he peered down the sight of his gun. "Kick ass, relax, and hook up with hot babes?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Santana and Brittany. Santana flipped him off without looking.
"Tina, there's a town nearby, right? How big is it?" Rachel asked.
"Yeah, maybe ten minutes by car. Smaller than Lima, but big enough to have a lot of walkers," Tina said.
"We should check it out," Rachel mused. Quinn's words echoed in her head: some people were more suited to action than others. "Who wants to go?"
Brittany, Mike, and Puck's hands immediately shot up. Easy to see who the daredevils were, the ones who thrived on action and had quick reflexes paired with devil-may-care attitudes. Pros: Probably willing to be the scouts and traverse into unknown and unmapped locations. Cons: Impulsive, possibly even reckless. Might get themselves trapped or even killed if not careful.
Quinn and Santana were slightly slower to raise their hands—still willing to be part of the action, but more cautious about it. Pros: Dependable and capable of both going out to gather supplies and guarding base. Cons: More hesitant and possibly unwilling to take risks.
Tina, Finn, and Kurt were the last to raise their hands, and only then reluctantly. They would be most comfortable—and useful—in places where they could see what was coming and knew what to expect. Pros: Good at keeping guard of the rear or keeping watch of the base. Cons: Might not react as quickly to a surprise zombie ambushing them and may not be able to stay calm in a sticky situation.
Interesting. Rachel made a mental note to remember. "Well, someone needs to keep watch of the house. Finn, Kurt, Mike, and Quinn stay here—"
"Tina's not going, I am," Mike stated firmly.
"She knows the way, though—" Rachel argued.
"So do I, and I hate waiting for people to come back," Mike said.
"Honestly, I think I would only get in the way," Tina admitted.
"I'm not staying, either," Quinn said. "Buddy system, remember?"
"Well, I don't need you to watch it now—" Rachel started in exasperation.
"Nope, I'm going," Quinn said decisively.
"Fine. Santana, you stay then."
"Over my dead body am I letting Brittany go without me," Santana said sharply.
"Okay then, Brittany stays!" Rachel said in growing irritation.
"Negative, captain," Brittany said dryly.
"Puck?" Rachel asked.
"Have you seen my arms?" He flexed his biceps. "It'd be a crime to leave me behind."
Rachel scowled in frustration. "Well, we can't all go!"
"And we're not." Santana pointed at Kurt. "Gimpy can't come because of his ankle—"
"I resent being called that," Kurt muttered.
Santana ignored him. "Gigantor will probably let every zombie know of our location because of his giant clown feet—"
"I said it was an accident!" Finn protested.
"And Girl Chang is a lover, not a fighter, so we've got three left behind to guard the house, which is good enough for me, so let's get a move on before boredom kills me instead of zombies, agreed? Good." With that, Santana spun on her heel and got into the car. Brittany smirked and followed her. Puck shrugged and headed to the other car, Mike giving Tina a kiss before walking after him.
"Sassy," Rachel muttered.
"She's right," Quinn sang annoyingly, pushing past Rachel to get into the driver's seat.
"Excuse me, who said you could drive?" Rachel shouted, scrambling after her.
-000-000-
Rachel sulked in the passenger seat and stared out the window at the passing trees. Her scowl intensified when she heard Quinn scoff and say, "Stop being such a baby. Everyone knows I'm the better driver."
"Says who? I challenge you for the title of 'Best Driver!'"
"And I challenge you to shut up," Santana said lazily from the backseat. "Everyone knows Brittany's the best at driving, no contest."
"I don't even know how, since you never came to any of McKinley's driving lessons," Quinn complained to Brittany.
Brittany nonchalantly shrugged. "Magic."
"Yeah, well, whatever," was the only thing Quinn could come up with.
"Good one, Q," Santana praised sarcastically.
"Can't you two keep your hands to yourselves? I can see you in the rearview mirror, you know!" Rachel said to Santana and Brittany.
"Stop watching then, freak."
Rachel rolled her eyes at the sound of rustling clothes and impish giggles, but suppressed a smile. Good to know some things didn't have to change.
She looked forward when Quinn slowed the car down. Puck and Mike had gotten out of their car and were waiting patiently on the side of the road.
Rachel hopped out and walked toward them. "Why are we stopping here?"
"The town only has, like, one main road going through it," Mike explained. "If the road is blocked or there are a lot of zombies, they'll definitely hear us coming and we're in trouble. I think we should walk it from here."
Their feet were mostly silent against the asphalt as they walked toward the sign demarcating the entrance of the town. The wooden sign was rather quaint, golden lettering on a maroon background proudly proclaiming, 'Welcome to Janesville.' Rachel was far more interested, however, in what was written below that.
"Population: 1057," Puck read aloud.
"Is that the population or the year this town was founded?" Santana muttered disparagingly, glancing disdainfully at the dilapidated barns peppering the sides of the road.
"It means there might be a thousand zombies waiting ahead for us," Rachel answered quietly. The possibility made everyone nervous, gripping onto weapons more tightly and unconsciously drifting closer to each other.
To everyone's surprise, the main street (so imaginatively named 'Main Street') was completely empty. Rather than being a cause for relief, however, the absolute stillness of the ghost town only seemed foreboding.
"Split up," Rachel decided. "Quinn, Noah, and I will go left; Santana, Brittany, and Mike to the right. We'll meet up at the end of Main Street."
"Is that such a good idea?" Santana asked doubtfully.
Rachel nodded at the shops lining the street. "This town is miniscule and the stores are even smaller. Six people will be hard to maneuver indoors in such tight spaces—if there are walkers waiting inside, I or whoever else is in front might not have the room to back away."
"Makes sense," Mike agreed. "Plus, it's not a long street at all. We'll see each other in ten minutes, tops."
"Okay." Quinn nodded reluctantly. "Yell if you need us."
Most of the storefronts were made of glass, making it significantly easier to simply take a peek into each store before moving on at the sight of no zombies. Rachel wiped sweaty palms on her jeans before adjusting her grip on her axe.
Through the display window of the next shop, she saw a lanky figure standing still with his back to them. Rachel held out a hand to stop Quinn and Puck from advancing any further and nodded toward the figure. "There's one in there."
"A walker?" Quinn whispered as the figure turned his head to the side to reveal a young man with sallow skin and dark gray circles under his eyes. "There's no blood on him. He looks like he could be alive—"
"Only one way to find out." Puck said decisively, striding toward the door. The bell above the door tinkled merrily as he pushed it open.
The figure slowly tottered around. Rachel sighed at seeing the vacant expression in grey, milky eyes. All three of them jumped when it let out an inhuman roar and lunged toward them.
"Nope, nope, definitely dead," Quinn yelped, swinging the crowbar in her hands. A nasty crack resounded through the room as the zombie stumbled back several feet, blood gushing from the deep cut on its temple. Rachel stepped forward to lodge her axe into its skull, sending it crumpling into a heap on the floor, before pulling her axe out with a nasty squelch and jumping back to let Puck finish it off with his bat.
Only when he finally stepped back, chest heaving with exertion and blood and brain matter covering the side of his bat, did the three examine the first walker they had killed since coming into town. Beneath the nauseating sight of its pulverized, caved-in face, the walker actually looked…normal. Normal enough that it made Rachel feel a little ill because if she didn't know any better, if this had been a different time and place, it would've looked like they just murdered a boy in cold blood.
"He's our age," Quinn observed sadly, voicing Rachel's thoughts out loud. "I wonder how he turned."
"He obviously got bit," Puck said, pointing his bat at the white bandage that had loosened from around the corpse's hand to reveal an inflamed bite mark.
"Yeah, but by who? There's no one here," Quinn pointed out. "Look at his shirt, it says Jackson High Track and Field. If he was on the track team, I'm guessing he outran most walkers because there are no other wounds on him. He must've made a mistake to get that bite on his hand."
"So where was he running from?" Rachel mused.
"Does it matter? They try to eat us; we smash their heads in." Puck bent down to wipe his bat clean on the boy's shirt, staining it with dark red.
"And when this place is swarming with walkers? I would much rather we be quiet and avoid attention rather than look for a fight," Rachel said sternly.
"Then we run like hell," Puck declared.
"As appealing as that plan sounds, I think Rachel's sounds better," Quinn said dryly.
"Well, of course." Rachel shrugged smugly.
"No need to be an asshole about it," Puck grumbled. "Look, the others are already outside. Let's move, ladies."
The trio left the shop and the zombie's body behind to regroup with Mike, Santana, and Brittany. "Any trouble?" Rachel asked as she approached them.
Mike shook his head. "The place is empty."
"Strange," Rachel murmured. "How does an entire town completely disappear?"
"They could've all left when the infection first hit," Quinn suggested.
"Alien abduction," Brittany muttered.
"Oh my God, how awesome would that be," Mike said enthusiastically.
Santana snorted. "Give me zombies any day—at least those fuckers are dumb as shit." She sighed. "And I thought people sucked when they were alive."
"That's assuming aliens would be bad guys," Puck argued. "Doesn't anyone remember E.T.? That little dude loved people."
"I remember E.T. being a creepy little fuck," Santana shot back.
"You're a creepy little fuck," Puck grumbled.
"Fuck you."
"Everyone shut up," Rachel snapped. They had entered the town square, a tiny plaza with a town hall-type of building behind them and a church located on the opposite side. Like Main Street, the town center was completely devoid of people, dead or otherwise.
"Where are all the dead people?" Quinn muttered.
"Shh, you'll jinx it!" Brittany warned her.
As if on cue, the distant sound of relentless moaning reached their ears. "Look what you did, Quinnifer," Santana complained unhappily.
"That wasn't my fault!"
"Over there." Mike nudged Rachel and nodded toward the church. A trail of bloody footsteps and questionable chunks of something led to somewhere beyond the thick wooden doors of the church, which were chained and padlocked shut. On the steps, there was a dark indistinguishable mass.
Rachel cautiously led the group forward toward the church and halted as they came close enough to see that the dark lump was—
"Holy shit," Puck uttered at seeing the body of a girl with her legs completely gone. "HOLY SHIT!" He repeated shrilly when the body opened its eyes and reached out toward them with a snarl.
As the zombie began to crawl toward them, Mike stepped forward to smash the blade of his shovel into its skull several times, bringing it to a halt. Rachel cautiously kneeled down to inspect the corpse, pausing at the sight of torn and mutilated flesh. "Her legs were literally chewed off at the knees," she realized out loud. "But then where—"
She fell backwards as the doors of the church burst open, only prevented from opening all the way by the chains around their handles. Numerous pale hands reached out through the gap, gruesome faces biting viciously at the air as their animalistic eyes locked onto Rachel. Rachel involuntarily scrambled backwards in terror before Quinn hauled her to her feet.
"I guess we know where the town went now," Quinn said with a nervous laugh as the thick wooden doors creaked underneath the strain of holding back the horde, yet thankfully refused to give way.
"We should make sure there's no way for them to get out through the back," Puck said, eyeing the chains with trepidation.
Rachel nodded. "Mike, keep an eye on the front, warn us if the chains start to give. Everyone else, follow me."
They circled around the church, only to see the back entrance had been similarly padlocked. Puck pulled on the doors to test their strength, jumping back when they were pushed outward by yet more zombies.
"The doors look solid enough to hold," Rachel observed quietly.
Quinn chuckled dryly. "Of course, how else would the church keep the sinners out?"
"I'd be a sinner any day if it meant not being locked up in there with all those freak shows. God damn," Puck muttered.
"But how'd they even get in there in the first place? It's not like the power of Christ compelled them inside," Santana pointed out.
Rachel turned to Quinn when the awful realization set in. "The track star kid."
Quinn frowned. "What about him?"
She gestured at the church. "He must've gotten them to chase him into the church. The girl would lock the doors as soon as they were all inside, and he escaped through the back and locked the doors behind him. Except maybe she wasn't strong enough, or maybe she couldn't chain the doors tightly enough, and they grabbed her legs through the gap between the doors, while Track Star Kid gets his hand bitten."
Quinn looked pensive as she mulled over Rachel's theory. "It's possible. How do we know if they managed to trap the entire town, though?"
"Excuse me," Brittany interrupted, coming between them to prop a ladder against the side of the church, underneath one of the stained glass windows.
Rachel blinked. "Where did you get that?"
"While you two were standing there doing fuck-all, Brittany and I found the tool shed," Santana drawled. "You're welcome."
Quinn rolled her eyes. "You're insufferable."
Rachel shushed them as Brittany ascended the ladder to peek through an open stained glass window. She promptly withdrew her head and silently made her way down again.
"Well?" Rachel prompted when Brittany remained silent, blue eyes wide and fearful.
Brittany slowly shook her head. "It's like sardines in a can—zombie sardines. I can't even see the floor, that's how packed it is."
"Fuck." Puck rubbed his head.
"Eloquent." Rachel rolled her eyes at Puck before turning to the group. "Okay, there's no need to lose our heads. As long as those doors hold—"
The group froze at the sound of splintering wood.
"Berry, you fucking jinxed it," Santana hissed.
Mike came sprinting around the corner, eyes wide in fear. "Guys, shh! I think they can hear you," he hissed. "Every time someone talks, they all push against the door."
"It's definitely Rachel," Puck whispered accusingly.
"She does sound the tastiest," Brittany agreed.
Rachel huffed. "My voice is destined for Broadway, it's naturally amplified!"
The group paused again as the doors creaked again. "Rachel, I know we're outdoors, but for the love of God, indoor voice!" Quinn said lowly.
At everyone's murmured agreements, Rachel scowled and motioned for them to move away from the church. In unspoken agreement, the group headed back toward where they had left their vehicles parked.
Walking through the empty town was surreal, knowing that all its residents were locked up and left to hopefully decompose. Quinn's heart jumped out of her chest when a flock of birds took off from a nearby tree, breaking the eerie silence as they passed by the town sign, this time in the opposite direction. Her heart jumped again at seeing Rachel lagging so far behind the rest of the group.
"Rachel! Are you crazy? Hurry up!" Quinn hissed.
Her brow furrowed when Rachel only grumbled something to herself and made no effort to move any faster. Rolling her eyes, Quinn pointedly stopped in her tracks to wait for the other girl to catch up.
"Really, Quinn, you don't need to wait for me. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself." Rachel sniffed and patted the axe resting on her shoulder.
Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Okay, but why are you acting like you just found out Barbra Streisand died? I mean, realistically I'm sure she is dead or a zombie at this point, but still."
Rachel's eyes began to fill with tears. "Thank you, Quinn, for reminding me that everyone I love and cherish is gone forever."
"Wow, it took Barbra Streisand to remind you of that?" Quinn shook her head. "Never mind. Why are you moping?"
"I'm not moping." At Quinn's pointed look, Rachel relented. "Though I don't think it was my voice specifically that the zombies were hearing, I feel bad—though again, it probably wasn't me—that I may or may not have put us all in danger due to a stupid mistake."
Quinn shrugged. "It might have been you. It might also have been Santana's cheap-ass dollar store perfume they were smelling, we'll never know. But as far as mistakes go, this is actually my favorite kind of mistake—the kind that didn't kill us. We know better for next time and it'll only help us survive."
"That is…surprisingly encouraging. Thanks, Quinn." Rachel smiled at her.
"No problem. Now can we please start moving and not make a second mistake of getting separated from the group, which might end up actually killing us?"
Rachel nudged her as they finally started to move to catch up with the others. "You know, you've been a lot nicer to me now than you were before. Who knew the end of the world was all it would take to be your friend?"
Quinn bit back a smile. "I don't know about you, but I take the buddy system very seriously—even if you almost get us killed."
Rachel immediately scoffed. "I still don't think it was me."
From all the way in front of the group, at an almost impossible distance away, Santana shouted, "It was definitely you, Berry!"
"Fuck off, Santana!" Rachel yelled back unexpectedly.
Quinn burst out laughing at how visibly offended Santana looked, even as she winced at the volume. This time Rachel's voice was one-hundred percent heard by every creature—living and dead—for miles around. So totally worth it, Quinn thought with satisfaction.
Hey guys, long time no see. Some disappointing news: I'm pronouncing this fic officially dead. It's been close to 10 years since I last watched Glee so the motivation to write for it is almost gone, plus having a time-consuming job + no plot in mind = abandon hope for updates, all ye who enter here. If someone would like to adopt it, please feel free (and let me know so I can read it, too!) As it stands, this story is done. Thank you for reading! :)