Lead Me Home
The fever is almost unbearable.
From shivering with an unbelievable cold, to sweating as if soaked with rain.
She cuddles up on the floor of Rachel's dressing room and tears at her hair, trying with all her might to fight off the oncoming onslaught of pain she's going to feel. Rachel stands above her, wringing her hands together, trying to formulate some form of plan.
But Quinn knows what's wrong, she knows that she's been out there much too long, she knows she could possibly infected.
"It could be just because you're tired," Rachel says, trying to dismiss any macabre thoughts, "Perhaps you're just exhausted, and I guess it doesn't help that you've barely eaten anything." She crouches down and rips open the bag that Quinn had long since dropped.
She pulls out a bottle of water and one of the MRE's that she had picked up from the Ex-Marine's apartment in her building.
"You have to eat and drink."
The thought of eating something made her stomach turn and twist; how could she possibly keep anything down with this fever?
"I'm infected, I know it." Quinn chokes out, reaching for the water and clutching it in her hands.
"You don't know that," Rachel is quick to dismiss, unscrewing the cap for her, "You're just completely drained. You need to rest and relax until this fever is gone."
"You need to stop trying to make me feel better. I know what's happening."
She almost catches her old friend rolling her eyes, "Just drink that whole bottle while I fix this food for you." The bag is ripped open, and the smell alone of tomato pasta is enough to make her throat clench.
"We can't waste resources."
"Quinn Fabray, for God sake, just drink the water and eat. You're being completely melodramatic."
Quinn frowns, "Makes a difference from you being melodramatic, then?"
Luckily for Quinn, Rachel decides not to reply and settles the food in front of her.
"Eat and finish that bottle of water. You're dehydrated."
Feeling like utter shit, Quinn begins to act as if a child, shoving the food away with the tip of her boot and barely holding back the urge to throw the water bottle across the room.
"When did you become a doctor?"
Rachel sighs, "I've taken my fair share of first aid classes, and I've seen enough fevers to know what to do to help. I had a fever last year and do you know what I did? I drank plenty of water and slept, and lo and behold, I was fine a few days later."
"I don't have time to rest, Rachel. We need to move, this place won't stay safe forever."
"I've been here for weeks. It's safe enough."
"Rachel…"
"Quinn, I'm making the decisions now that you're incapacitated. You're eating, you're drinking, you're sleeping, until the fever is gone. You're not infected. Stop being such a child and get on with it."
Rachel raises to her feet and heads over to her dressing table, "If I hear anything, I'll wake you, okay?"
Jaw clenched, Quinn fiddles with the bottle in her hand, and then sighs with defeat, "Fine." She downs the entire bottle, and she's shocked, after the ache her stomach gives her for being filled, that the liquid quenches the dehydration.
She rips into the food, hungry enough to stuff whatever food she can find into her mouth, even if it does look like a masticated cow.
But she looks up to Rachel and swallows her mouthful, "Aren't you hungry?"
Rachel glances at her through the mirror, "I'm okay."
Quinn's eyebrow flicks up in silent question, "You were going out to look for food, and I doubt there was a lot of food in this theatre…" She wanders off her questioning and stares at her friend, "When was the last time you ate?"
Rachel stands abruptly, and then stumbles, catching herself on the edge of her table, "You should eat and sleep, Quinn."
"When was it." It isn't a question, it's a demand, and Rachel can barely look at her when she replies softly.
"Almost a week and a half."
"Are you insane?"
Quinn leans forward, forgetting about the pain in her stomach, and grabs the nearest thing she can find. It's only a bag of trail mix and a bottle of water, but it's better than nothing. The MRE's are gone, the water is depleting, and she's in no state to go on a run right now.
"Eat this and when I'm better, I'll go on a run for food."
"You need it more than I do, Quinn."
"Do it. I'm eating because you told me to, it's only right you offer me the same."
She sees the hungry look in Rachel's eyes as she stares at the bag of trail mix, barely half full, but to someone who hasn't eaten in a while, it could look like a banquet.
Rachel gives in eventually, and takes the bag gently from Quinn's hand, as well as the bottle, "Thank you." She settles beside Quinn and takes special care to savour each morsel she gets from the bag. She has to make this last.
"Here…" She hears beside her, and looks up to see Quinn offering her the pudding from her MRE. It's only a tiny pot of rice pudding, but she can only imagine the taste of something sweet on her tongue.
"No, I can't, it's yours."
Quinn shrugs, "I'm alright, I don't like it anyway."
Rachel's eyes narrow, "You're lying."
And with a shrug, Quinn replies, "I could be."
They stare at one another for a while, before Quinn subtly reaches forward and places the pot in front of Rachel's crossed legs. "I'm done eating, anyway. I'll just catch some shut eye."
Quinn discards her MRE packet in a nearby bin and rolls over onto her side, back to Rachel. She hears the small crunches as Rachel eats, and weirdly, the sound of someone else nearby, helps her drift into a state of unconsciousness.
She falls asleep so quick she doesn't hear the thank you that Rachel utters as she digs into her rice pudding.
She awakes later, with vision disorientated, she can't tell how long she's been out, but the twisting in her stomach has come to a stop and she doesn't feel the need to shake or sweat anymore. The fever has broken.
"Rach…" She croaks out, rolling over onto her back. Rachel is settled beside her still, propped up against the wall, forehead resting on her knees as she sleeps. The pot of rice pudding is long since gone, as is the trail mix, but some water still remains at the bottom of the bottle.
Quinn finishes it off, just to wash away the feeling in her dry throat and sits up, to prop herself against the wall. She feels as if she could sleep again, but at one glance at her bag, she knows she can't afford to.
She'll have to go another run, and from first hand experience, it didn't seem that Rachel knew how to handle herself in combat with the infected. Quinn could easily offer her a knife, but she doesn't truly enjoy the thought of being one less a weapon and having Rachel so close to something that could kill her.
They'd need to find a weapon, a long range weapon, sooner of later. Quinn knew she couldn't rely on knives forever, they'd at least have to have some form of secondary just in case something went wrong. A gun would suffice, but she wasn't quite sure if any guns were still in the city, with the looting that transpired before the city went down.
But she'd have to try.
The easiest place to check would be a gun store, perhaps they still had something in stock.
"Rachel," She shakes the girl awake gently, trying not to scare her, "Wake up, we need to go."
"Uhhhh…noooo…"
"Rachel, come on. We need to move."
"Sleeping…"
"Not really, you're talking to me."
"Such a buzz kill, Quinn Fabray."
Quinn rolls her eyes, and uses the wall to pull herself to her feet. She walks around the room, trying to get the kinks out of her muscles from sleeping on a hard floor, and to regain some of the strength in her legs. She rolls her shoulders back and forth, limbering herself up, before leaning down to grab the two knives that sit by her backpack.
"We need to get weapons. I'm not really comfortable with you getting so close to the infected just yet. I've had some minor experience, but you've had none."
Rachel raises her head and rubs at her eyes, "How do you know I haven't?"
"Hiding behind a restauraunt door, for one."
"There was a group, I couldn't take them all."
"I didn't see any dead bodies, except for the ones I put down."
Rachel hesitates, "Fine, so I haven't killed any. I just…didn't like the thought of doing it. They were people too. I'm anti-violence."
"That'll change eventually," Quinn sighs, "You have to be violent if you want to survive. Hiding in here is all well and good, but eventually they'll find a way in, and if we're trapped in here with them, we're done for."
"Perhaps I say you're right…"
"I am right."
"And that we do need to leave. Where are we going to go, exactly? The whole city is infected, and the last I heard, so was the rest of the world. No matter where we go, we'll always run into the infected. I'd rather sit in once place than run for the rest of my life."
"You'll have a short life if you sit here, Rachel. I'm not going to sit here."
"And where are you going, exactly?"
"First I'm going on a run, and then I'm going to find a car and go back to Lima."
"Why?"
"I need to see if my mom is okay. I talked to her a few days before the infection hit New York."
"I'd like to see if my dad's are okay."
Quinn nods, "So we're agreed? Lima or bust?"
Rachel looks around her tiny sanctuary, taking in every object that she had once placed in the room. Mementos, outfits, photos and flowers that had long since died like the city she once loved. It was her sanctuary, but Broadway wouldn't be able to save her now. She felt safe within the theatre, like it was her home, but now she has a friend, and a plan.
She can go now.
She takes one look at Quinn and nods, "Lets go."
She doesn't give Rachel a knife. It was better for her to hold both, than have Rachel stand there, not being able to use it. It was a risky move, but she could take down any infected that came across as they crossed the city to the nearest gun store.
Unfortunately, she didn't know any concrete locations for gun stores. She had seen some on an old story she tailed years previously, but not the street. She knows there's one somewhere near broadway, East of their direction, and even though she doesn't have a proper location, at least she has some form of idea.
"You keep close to me. You don't make a noise. If you need to talk, whisper as quietly as you can. Luckily, we slept through the night, so we have the light on our side."
Rachel simply nods as they descend the fire escape stairs. Together, they jump over the fence, and Quinn, weapons holstered, backpack on her back, they dash to the end of the street, avoiding infected along the way.
As they stop behind a police car, waiting for a dotted group of infected to pass, Rachel taps her gently on the shoulder. Looking over, Rachel whispers, "I don't like this…"
Quinn shakes her head, "You have to get used to this. It's going to be like this all the way to Ohio."
With a gentle sigh, Rachel nods, and waiting for Quinn's sign that they can continue, they move onward, in search for a gun store.
Quinn can see the gun store at the end of Grand Street, right by Little Italy. John Jovino's Gun Shop has seen much better days. The windows are completely caved in and the front door lay abandoned on the sidewalk.
Slowly, they inch up on the store and after Quinn surveys the inside of the building and notes two infected, she tells Rachel to stay as she wanders in and takes the two of them out in quick succession. She can feel Rachel's eyes on her, but she doesn't give it any attention, she just ushers Rachel to follow and together, they search the store.
"What if we don't find any weapons?" Rachel asks, quietly, as she looks underneath the counter. Most New York natives held a gun under the counter, just for protection, but nothing sits there. Only dust and tiny splatters of blood.
"Then we look somewhere else. Another gun store."
"What about a precinct? The police have plenty of weapons."
Quinn stops in her search and ponders the idea, "Maybe."
Rachel wanders into the back of the store, careful to scout for infected just as Quinn had, but as her eyes roam the back room, she collapses back and clasps her hand over her mouth in shock.
"Rachel?" Quinn comes up beside her, hand on her shoulder, "What's wrong?"
Terrified brown eyes remain peeled on the back room, and instinctively, Quinn pulls a knife free and heads over to the open door. With a sigh, she stops and drops her hand, then looks back to Rachel.
"How about you look by the window, okay? I'll search in here."
Eyes wide and wet, Rachel wanders to the front of the store without another word.
She thought Rachel had been prepared for the devastation around her. In school, Rachel had always been such a strong character, determined and courageous, but now, seeing the death around her, Rachel's true colors are finally shown.
Rachel is just like any other person; terrified of the death, the infection and still devastated that normal humans could stoop to suicide to cure themselves of the pain.
The owner of the store had decided that he wouldn't wait to be infected. Instead, he had taken himself into his back office and taken a gun to his head. Now collapsed against the wall, blood and brain matter splattered on the walls like a macabre painting, his gun sits dejected beside him.
For a second, Quinn wonders if she should take the gun. She doesn't particularly enjoy the thought of using a gun that someone had committed suicide with. She takes the gun in her hand, familiarizes herself with the 9mm, and unclips the magazine. The only bullet that had been inside was now in the owner's skull.
Feeling the creep of uncertainty within in, she drops the gun back to the ground and leaves the office, shutting the door behind her.
"Anything…?" She asks quietly.
Rachel is still wandering in front of the store, looking from shelf to shelf, but not really looking. Her eyes are still glazed, and her cheeks red like she's been crying. She just shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak, and watches as Quinn begins to leave the store.
"We'll go somewhere else."
Rachel is silent the entire trip to the next gun store. They had walked past the 1st precinct, but upon seeing the endless swarm of infected loitering outside, they decided to give it a miss. If that many infected were outside, she didn't want to imagine how many there were inside.
So they continue on, in a thick silence that Quinn wishes to dispel, but with the infected nearby, she keeps her mouth shut and concentrates on keeping herself and Rachel alive long enough to make it to the gun store.
Endless streets and blocks pass them by, and she can tell that Rachel is flagging with exhaustion. She hadn't slept completely the previous night and now lagged behind Quinn as she dashed from car to car, between alcoves of buildings and street vendor carts.
Eventually, they reach the next gun store. This one seems to be a little more intact, with it's door still on its hinges and the glass of the front window only cracked. Quinn tells her to stay behind the cab that sits outside as she tries the door and when it slips open effortlessly, she heads in to sweep it of infected.
She can already tell there are a few guns available, some stood proudly on the racks, others thrown to floor as if the person handling them threw them down and fled. No infected stand in the shop, so she ushers Rachel inside and shuts the door quietly behind them.
"Pick up whatever gun you're comfortable with."
"I'm very anti-gun." Rachel's voice sounds hoarse, perhaps from the running, or perhaps from the lack of speaking, but Quinn dismisses it.
"You can't be anti-gun now, Rachel. You have to protect yourself and a gun is the safest way until I can teach you how to handle them face to face."
Rachel sighs and glances around the shop, "I don't like this at all."
"And you think I do?" Quinn replies sarcastically, "You think I enjoy looting a dead man's store for his guns to kill other people?" She stands behind the counter, hands resting upon the smooth wood, "I don't like it either, Rachel, but I've had to adapt. A few months ago, I'd never thought I'd have to stab another human in the skull just so I could survive another day, I never imagined the whole of New York would be a home to an infection I know nothing about. I never knew that the whole world would go to shit. I don't like it either, Rachel, get a grip."
Rachel stands back, watching voicelessly as Quinn scouts the store for a gun she's comfortable with. She watches as the blonde effortlessly holds some sort of machine gun in her hand, brings it to her shoulder so she can look down the sight, but then dismissing it.
"I'm not a child, Quinn. You don't need to speak down to me like that."
"I'm trying to give you a reality check."
"My reality check was back there in that other gun store!" Rachel shouts back, angry, and barely stopping herself from stomping her foot, "I know what's happened to the world and I accept it, but it doesn't mean I like it. I don't want to handle a gun but I know I have to. I have to eat any food I come across despite being a Vegan because I know I'll die otherwise. You have no need to give me a reality check, Quinn."
Quinn sighs softly, "I'm sorry, I'm just on edge."
"Hm…" Rachel replies, noncommittal, before heading to the nearest wall to look at the guns. She never liked the thought of owning a gun, let alone handling one. Her father's owned a gun, locked away in a safe in the basement, and even though she never saw it, she hated the fact it was in her home. Guns killed people, and yes, even though it could defend her and her father's to a home invasion, she hated the thought that something you could hold in your hand could end someone's life.
But now, no one is alive. The world has changed, and along with it, the laws of the land. It was kill or be killed, and she knew she had to get with the program.
"Oh nice," She hears Quinn whisper behind her and as she turns she sees Quinn reaching into the cupboard below the gun racks.
"What?"
She pulls out a long barrelled gun, and for the life of her, Rachel can't exactly tell what sort of gun it is.
"What's nice about that? It looks horrid."
Quinn actually looks shocked at her friend's words, "Are you being serious? This is a .357 Colt Python Magnum." At Rachel's blank look, she shakes her head, "My grandfather had a gun like this. They don't make them anymore." She raises the gun to her eye and looks down the sight, "Fixed sight, 6 rounds, chrome, black grip…" She lowers the gun, "It's just like his…"
"Your grandfather…?" It doesn't need to asked.
"He, uh…died long before the infection. Thank God."
Quinn raises to her feet, "I'm gonna gather ammo, hurry and pick a weapon so I can grab your ammo too."
"'Kay…" Rachel whispers quietly, watching Quinn wipe at her eyes before sifting through boxes of ammo behind the counter.
She's completely at a loss at which gun to grab, so she picks up then nearest handgun she can find and calls out to Quinn.
"That's a little strong. The recoil might wreck havoc on your wrist."
Rachel nods, as if she understands what Quinn is talking about, before resting it on the counter and reaching down the cupboard beneath the racks. She can tell the shop was looted. Half of the handguns that once rested there were now gone and only a few little ones remained. She pulls one out and shows it to Quinn.
"A Glock 19, good. It should be good for a beginner, it's easy to use as well." She takes the gun from Rachel's hand and takes out the magazine, "Takes regular 9mm, should be easy to find around here." She hands it back, "Look for boxes with 9mm on them."
She does, but only manages to grab two boxes before she can find no more. Apparently, someone was a little trigger happy and decided to take her ammo of choice for themselves.
"When we get low, we'll look for more, but I don't want to use the guns that often. Noise attracts them."
Rachel nods, completely out of her element, "What now?" She asks as she watches Quinn look around the shop.
"I need something else. This holster is home made, I need something a little sturdy, just in case."
Eventually, she finds one, hidden in a box in the back office. A black number with two holsters that fits comfortably around her shoulders. She leaves her old holster behind and fits herself with the new one, sliding her Magnum into the holster and reaching for it. It rests just below her armpit and is in a perfect position for her to grab just in case she needs it in a tight spot.
"I need another knife."
"You already have two."
"They're only kitchen knives. I need some sort of tactical knife. Something that won't threaten to break. Those are on their last legs. You'd be good to grab one too."
Behind the counter, knives sit behind a shattered glass cupboard. She eyes them and grabs the one most appropriate for Rachel, a nimble number, but deadly with its long blade. "Here, grab a holster too."
Rachel takes the knife between two fingers and frowns as she goes and grabs herself a holster. She settles on the only one left, a brown leather, and she fights back the need to shout at Quinn for both wearing and making her wear a cow, but she straps it on regardless. She holsters her gun on her left and her knife on her right.
She watches as Quinn pulls down a tactical knife and feels it in her hands. The grip is none slip and the blade long enough to puncture through an infected's skull. A black grip with a matching blade, it looks just as deadly as it looks. She settles it into her holster and nods at Rachel, "Ready to go?"
"Where to…?"
Quinn smirks, "We need to find a car."
They try the most logical places first, going from car dealership from car dealership, but the cars have either been trashed or stolen. By this time, sunset is fast approaching, and Quinn can feel the need to sleep and eat wash over her, but they're far from the theatre and they have no place to settle down for the night.
"We've been to six dealerships, it's all the same. Everyone panicked when the infection started to hit, looting was crazy. Do you really think we'll find a working car anywhere?"
"Not every car in New York was looted, that's impossible." She scratches the back of her head and runs her hand through her choppy hair, "Perhaps we should try a mechanics. They keep the vehicles they're working on behind locked doors."
"Do you know one near here?"
"I think there's one close to the East River, so if we keep going down here, we should get there soon."
"Let's just hope there's something there."
As they reach the mechanics, Quinn surveys the area before she dashes out across the street. Rachel follows, close behind, almost crouching, trying to hide herself away. They had passed many infected along the way, and any that got too close for comfort, Quinn had taken care of them with her new knife.
Rachel felt like a third wheel, like she was useless in the apocalypse. She had always been such a strong person, before the infection hit that was, and now she could barely muster the thought of protecting herself.
Quinn was eager to teach her, often asking her to watch as she took down an infected. You had to aim for the head, anywhere else, and nothing would happen. She had to prove to both herself and Quinn that she could protect them if the time came.
"Let me sweep this."
Quinn raises an eyebrow, "You don't know how many are in there."
"There could be none at all," Rachel whispers back, "I need to learn, Quinn."
"You need to learn, but not by running head first into a gang of them. I'll sweep."
With a sigh, Rachel lets it go, "Fine, but if you find one…"
The blonde regards her, hazel eyes darting across her face, "You want to take it down?"
"I have to do it eventually, I guess I should desensitize myself now."
With a nod, Quinn tries the handle on the door, locked.
"This is a good sign, it means no one got in." She stands, "Let's try the back."
As the walk around the perimeter of the building, Rachel pulls her knife free from her holster. Although she would feel better taking an infected down at a distance with her gun, she doesn't really want to attract them with the sound of her gun going off.
"It's open," Quinn whispers, pushing the door open slowly before peaking her head in. The entire garage is covered in a shroud of darkness, but as she opens the door wider, the setting sun sends a beam of light into the dusty garage.
She pushes a finger to her lips, urging Rachel to be quiet as they both tiptoe inside. She can hear nothing, which is a good sign, but it does nothing to calm her. Rachel is a newbie at this, and if something happened to jump out and grab her, it could end disastrously.
They sweep the garage together, bumping into cars they can barely see as they look around for threats. As the reach the main office for the garage, Quinn looks into the frosted glass to see any sort of movement. She sees a slow ambling of someone from behind the door and backs off.
"Are you sure?"
Rachel hesitates before she nods, her heart pounding heavily in her chest.
"You can't deal with it, you back off, okay?"
Another nod, stronger this time.
"Okay…" Quinn is more nervous than Rachel, so as she twists the knob, she opens the door slowly. The infected has its back turned to them, but as the door creaks, it slowly turns, glazed eyes staring at them, body withered, mouth agape, waiting for another meal.
"Go."
She steps back, but sees no movement, "Rachel?"
Rachel is stood stock still, holding the knife between two hands, staring as the infected wanders closer toward them.
"Rachel!"
She jumps from her shock and takes a step back, and it's all Quinn needs.
Quinn steps forward and puts down the infected mechanic, watching as he slumps to the floor as she pulls her knife free from his forehead. Rachel stands behind her, head down, knife holstered once more.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be, it's too much too soon."
"I know I had to, but I couldn't move."
With a sigh, Quinn pats her hand on Rachel's shoulder as she passes, "You'll get past that, eventually."
Rachel nods softly to herself, "Eventually."
Infected mechanic forgotten, they scout the garage. Three cars sit, immobile, and one by one, the work their way through them. The first car has no tires and the battery completely removed, obviously half way through a overhaul. The second has its bumper caved in, almost to the front seats and the third has its engine removed.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
"It still sounds weird when you swear."
Quinn glances over her shoulder, Rachel stands against a nearby car, leaning against it, arms crossed over her chest.
"We all grew up from high school, Berry."
"Berry?"
Quinn turns back to the car, "Mhm."
"Are you sure we all grew up?"
Quinn opens her mouth to respond to the retort, but Rachel beats her to it, "What's behind that door?"
She looks, "What door?"
"Over there, next to the office." She heads toward it, "Is it another garage?"
"It didn't look that big from the outside."
"But there was a shutter on the outside."
"Could be a car," Quinn replies, following Rachel, "Want to sweep?"
Rachel bites her bottom lip, "Together."
They've done it.
They've hit the jackpot.
Quinn stares, slack jawed, as Rachel slides the keys from the hook by the door into the ignition and the engine purrs to life. It still sounds as beautiful as it once did, and Quinn feels herself swoon.
Rachel laughs to herself and shuts off the engine, "Almost half a tank of gas, more than enough to get us out of New York."
There's no reply.
"Quinn?" She climbs from the car and frowns when she sees that Quinn is still staring at the car like a mirage, "Are you okay?"
"It's a Mustang."
"I know…?"
"A 66 Mustang."
"Okay…?"
"A Ford 1966 Mustang Fastback."
"Is this suppose to mean anything to me?"
"It's only the most beautiful car ever made."
Rachel smirks, "I never took you for a petrol head."
"Only for this car, other cars can suck it." Quinn steps forward and runs her hand along the hood of the cherry red car. The interior, black leather, screams for her to sit in it. "We need to use this car."
"What other cars do we have to use?" Rachel replies sarcastically, watching as Quinn climbs into the drivers seat, "Quinn?"
Quinn runs her hand along the rim of the steering wheel and smirks, "We'll get to Ohio in record time in this."
"We have nowhere near enough gas to get to Ohio."
"We'll siphon from other cars along the way. The gas stations will be bone dry. Is there a jerry can around?"
"Uhm…" Rachel glances around, "Not in here. I'll go check in the main garage."
"Alright." Quinn replies, barely glancing at her.
Rachel wanders into the main garage, keeping her eyes peeled for the jerry can. She searches the shelves, stacked high with mechanical equipment, but comes up empty handed for the elusive red can.
"If I was a jerry can, where would I be?" She whispers to herself, poking her head into the office. She steadfastly ignores that dead infected man that lays on the ground, and when she realizes what she seeks isn't in there, she shuts the door fast behind her.
There's a slight creak.
"Quinn?" She calls softly, "Is that you…?"
A shiver runs down her spine, and suddenly worried, she pulls her knife free and holds it in a tight grip.
"Quinn?" There's nothing more, and she just assumes she's imagined it. But she keeps the knife in her hand as she continues her search. Better to be safe than sorry.
Tucked on the lower shelf behind the crushed car, she finds the allusive jerry can. She pulls it free from behind a toolbox and rises to her feet. "I got it-," She stops dead in her tracks when she figures out what finally made the sound.
The door, still open, sending in a light beam of light, now covered in shadow, is an infected.
"No…no…" She backs up, readying herself to rush around the car to put some space between them, but she's terrified, and she can't get her feet to move. "Quinn!" She screams, and just as it leaves her throat, the infected lunges straight at her, sending them both sprawling to the ground.
Rachel tries with all her might to break free, but his grip is so incredibly strong. She whacks the jerry can around his head a few times, hoping to send him sprawling, but it barely makes the infected flinch.
Then she realizes, she has the knife.
In a split second, she grabs it from where it lays beside her, raises it and lunges forward.
Quinn rushes forward, gun pulled and aimed down at Rachel. She's sat up, hand up against the infected's face.
"Don't shoot, he's dead."
"What?"
As grotesque as it feels, Rachel steels herself and pulls the knife free from the infected man's eye before shoving him away with her knees. He collapses beside her and she takes the chance to gather her breath.
"You did it."
Rachel looks up at her, and she know she must be a sight, but she's just happy to see another friendly face.
"Yeah…I guess I did."
Quinn smiles softly and crouches down beside her, holstering her Magnum. "You did good."
"I almost died."
"So did I, the first time." The blonde shakes her head, "But that's the first step, now you know you can kill them." She stands and holds out her hand, "Come on, lets get out of here."
Rachel takes the hand offered to her and lets Quinn pulls her to her feet, "Lets go." She picks up the jerry can and nods for Quinn to move.
On the outskirts of New York, having spent almost three hours maneuvering around endless parked cars and wreckage, they are finally free from the grip New York held over them.
Rachel glances at the city behind her from the rear-view mirror and sighs, "It was so beautiful."
There's a pause as Quinn pushes down on the acceleration.
"It was."