They Only Want You For Your Brains 3/4
Title: They Only Want You For Your Brains
Author: mothergoddamn & rebness
Pairing/characters: Blaine/Kurt, Rachel/Finn, Puck and Quinn.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Glee kids have a new challenge on the horizon. A shuffling, angry, zombie challenge.
Previous:
1/ 2
They Only Want You For Your Brains
Chapter 3
Ting.
'Stop it.'
Ting.
'Stop it.'
Ting.
'Stop it already!' snapped Kurt.
Puck continued to circle him, flicking the bell on his bike. 'The shark's coming to get you, Kurt. It's circling closer.'
'You're supposed to be helping!'
'It's going to eat you, Kurt.'
'It's a bike,' he retorted. 'And also, there are zombies waiting to do that to both of us.'
'I'm bored of zombies,' said Puck. He rode over to Finn, who was still struggling to unlock the entrance gates at the tank compound. 'I thought you were good at this stuff.'
'I never said that! I just said I saw it on a TV show about survival once,' said Finn. 'It's not my fault. It's the lock.' He sat back, frustrated. 'I think we should just go around the front and see if we can get in that way.'
'There could be zombies out front!' protested Kurt.
'Look,' said Finn. 'The sooner we get in, the sooner we can get safe and the sooner we can begin Fuckurt.'
'I wish you wouldn't put so much emphasis upon the first syllable,' said Kurt crossly.
'--And then you two can sit back and do your thing while I get down repopulating.'
Puck frowned. 'Wait. I'm not gay.'
'No, but the whole vasectomy thing--'
'That was a goddamn lie!' exploded Puck.
Kurt grabbed his arm. 'Please, be quiet! The zombies!'
Puck shook him off. 'You selfish fuck, Finn! I won't have you spreading lies about me, I won't!'
'But you said it! How was I supposed to know!'
'All this time,' snarled Puck. 'All this time and talk about Fuckurt and you've just been prepared to make me one of your goddamn stooges! I can't believe this.'
Kurt shrugged. 'He didn't mean it like that. He means we'll be in important positions, okay?' He turned to Finn. 'Right?' he said severely.
'S-sure,' Finn stammered. 'I was thinking Puck could be head of security and you could be like a member of the harem. Not that I'd do you,' he said quickly. 'Just because we're brothers and also because I'm not gay. You could do like the sewing and cooking for us.'
'You want me as the cook!' shrieked Kurt.
'I... I like your pasta bake,' he muttered.
Puck jumped onto his bike. 'Right, fuck you! Kurt, hop on. We'll go and find our own way because Purt will be way more awesome than your pansy sewing circle.' He nodded at Kurt. 'If you want a pansy sewing circle, though, that's totally cool in Purt.'
Kurt tossed his nose in the air and brought his arms and Puck. 'You don't even flinch,' he said, shooting daggers at Finn.
'Wait, guys!' said Finn, jumping up. 'Wait!' But Puck and Kurt were already gone. 'Gah!' he shouted. 'I can't cook, Kurt! I can't cook!'
*
'He just does so many things that are so wrong,' said Kurt. 'He's always "Kurt, does this spot look like cancer? Will you squeeze it and check?" and "Kurt, I noticed you stopped putting cinnamon in my hot milk. Can you tell me why?" and he's just so demanding and he drives me up the wall. I hate him!'
'And he smells,' said Puck.
'I gave him that aftershave,' said Kurt, offended.
They rode on in silence for a while longer, skirting around the back roads towards main street. 'Just to warn you, I think there'll be like tonnes of zombies on the main drag or something,' said Puck.
'I'm sure it's not that ba-- oh my God! Oh my God!' He clamped his hands over his mouth in horror. As they crested the hill, Puck came to a halt. There were hundreds-- hundreds! -- of the rotting undead staggering about. There was no way they'd get through alive.
'Kurt.'
He tried to calm his breathing. 'Y-yes?' he whispered.
'I need your shirt.'
'Why?'
'Less questions, more unbuttoning!'
Kurt paused. 'Are you going to assault me?'
'I am so offended right now, I should punch you in the kidneys,' said Puck. 'Will you just give me your damned shirt!'
He glared at Kurt as the other boy unbuttoned his top, flexing his fingers to indicate he should hand it over. 'Okay,' he muttered, tying the shirt around his neck. 'We're ready.'
Kurt raised an eyebrow. 'What are we ready for, exactly?'
'We're ready to kick zombie ass!'
'Because you have my shirt around your neck?'
'It's a cape, Kurt.'
Kurt closed his eyes, counted to ten. It didn't help. He opened them and gave his best Meatloaf stare at Puck, before reaching forward and grabbing him by the shirt tied around his neck. 'Listen here, Puckerman,' he hissed. 'We are going back to Finn and we are going to find a way in and I will not die for your idiotic superhero ideals today. Do you understand?'
Puck froze, considering. 'All right, little dude,' he muttered. 'No need to go all psycho on me.' He extricated himself from Kurt's grasp and pointed at a zombie slowly winding its way up the hill to them.
'Look at that one. She's got her boobs out.' He smiled at Kurt. 'Total ZILF.'
*
Fine. Whatever. Finn didn’t need them. He was happy by himself, and totally capable. See if he’d let them into Fuckurt now. In fact, he'd just rename it Finland and-- oh, that name sounded familiar. He'd have to check with Rachel or someone that it wasn't copyrighted or something.
Pedaling leisurely back and forth in front of the compound, Finn closed his eyes, leaning his body back and letting the air caress his face. Man, this was like that kick ass movie that he had seen one night. How had that ended again? He stretched out his arms like a cross and continued to make his way along the road.
He felt free, he felt strong. He felt like the leader he was. In fact-- oh, fuck.
Feeling the wheel jar something hard, he was flung through the air ass over head, hitting the ground hard. Pain flared across his shoulders and back.
What the hell had he hit? He sat up with a groan, seeing a blond boy with his back to him, standing up stiffly.
‘Dude? You okay?’
The figure froze at Finn’s call, turning slowly on his heel to face him.
Sam Evans! Finn realised. This was awesome, if there was one person in the world who recognised Finn for the dashing hero-wanderer he was, then it was Sam Evans.
‘Wow! Am I glad to see you. Here help me up. We found this totally cool tank place. It was all my idea. And then we are going to form a repopulation commune called Finla-‘
Finn’s voice stuttered to a stop as Sam finally turned round to face him.
Oh, shit.
‘What-what’s that on your face, man?’ Finn asked weakly.
PLOP.
Finn glanced sadly at the ground. ‘Oh. It was your jaw.’ He held up his hands as Sam advanced on him. ‘Listen, dude. I am totally sorry about stealing your girlfriend and praying for you to get hurt in football and that time I told Puck you only had one testicle. I didn’t, like, mean any of it!’ Finn, in his mind, was climbing to his feet, running for his bike and getting the hell out of here, but Finn in reality was frozen to the floor as Sam shuffled towards him. ‘Oh, dude. Please don’t eat my face! Please don’t eat my face!’
Finn squeezed his eyes shut as Sam leant over him, his nose pushing into the crown of his head. Oh, God. This was it. This was it. How can you even eat without a jaw? Oh, God, Sam was going to open his head like a can opener.
‘Be gone, foul fuck face!’ someone yelled, following it up with a loud thwack. Finn’s eyes flew open to find Puck standing over a prone Sam, baseball bat in hand, and red cape blowing majestically in the breeze.
‘Puck,’ Finn breathed in reverence. ‘You came back?’
Puck sniffed and squinted into the sky. ‘Heard a woman screaming, that’s all. Didn’t realise it was you.’ He shrugged. ‘Plus Kurt made me.’
A broad smile broke out across Finn's face. 'Kurt, I owe you. Big time.'
'But dude,' said Puck. 'How gay are you? Cinnamon in your milk? Milk, even?' He laughed. 'Do you go to bed with a wittle teddy bear, Finn?'
Finn's face was rapidly going a deep shade of crimson. Kurt hastily turned to the gate, fiddling with the lock. 'Let's forget everything!' he squeaked. 'We need to get in and--'
KA-THUNK.
He shrank back as, with one hefty blow from the baseball bat, Finn smashed the lock free.
'Hulk mad,' said Puck. 'Hulk smash.'
'Let's just get inside,' snarled Finn, shoving both of them hard before closing the gate firmly behind him.
'Dude,' said Puck to Kurt, 'remember cinnamon. It's his power word.'
*
‘Breathe into this paper bag, Blaine!’ Quinn insisted, her palm rubbing calming circles against his back.
‘Permanent... record... oh, my God,’ Blaine gasped. ‘Oh, my God!’
‘That punk bitch still whining?’ Rachel tossed out, rubbing at her nose in an undignified manner. ‘Sheeet. ‘
‘I can’t go to prison, Quinn!’ Blaine removed the bag from his mouth and pointed at himself. ‘I mean, look at this face!’
‘Swap your sweet hide for a carton of cigarettes and a copy of Hustler.’
‘Rachel! Will you stop it!’ Quinn snapped. She rested a hand on Blaine’s knee. ‘Look, we had to take this car. We had to, Blaine. And if this whole zombie thing gets straightened out then we’ll just explain. It’s okay, Blaine. Everything will be okay.’
He looked towards her gratefully: eyes wet and chin wobbling bravely. After a moment, he gave a nod and smiled shakily.
‘Bitch gonna get shanked fo’ sure.’ Rachel paused. ‘Then one of them is going to get this spoon and-‘
‘Rachel!’
If Quinn had realised just how method Rachel was going to go, she never would have allowed her to hotwire the BMW. Apparently, she had starred in an elementary production of West Side Story as a Jet and taken her research a bit too far.
‘Oh, girl! You better check yourself ‘fo you wreck yourself.’
‘Don’t spit in the car, that is disgusting!’ Quinn turned back to Blaine. ‘Ignore her, come on. Just keep driving. We are nearly there now.’
‘Yeah, drive, bitch.’
‘Rachel! Where--- is that a shiv?’
‘I made it out of my comb!’ Rachel smiled proudly, eyes widening as she realised her slip. ‘Nuts to you!’
'Oh, shut up!' said Quinn. 'I understand, it's a dorky Rachel coping mechanism. You can break character for five minutes, can't you? Before I flatten you?'
‘What?’ Rachel shrugged. ‘You can’t just break character, Quinn. Marlon Brando used to say-‘
'He died from eating cake.'
'Did he?' asked Blaine.
'No, but my point stands.'
'What's your point?' asked Rachel darkly. 'Er, please?' she amended on seeing Quinn's angry gaze.
Blaine shrugged. ‘I don’t think you were doing a faithful version of Maria and Tony’s story, if I’m honest, Rachel.’
‘I updated it for the times, Blaine! Like Rent from La Boheme. Or She’s All That from My Fair Lady.’
‘Pygmalion,’ Quinn interjected.
Blaine’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was that a crack about my height?’'
'It's a myth!' said Quinn. 'It's a classic story--'
'As is My Fair Lady,' sniffed Rachel.
'They're the same story!' hissed Quinn. 'Sort of.'
'Get out of here!' said Rachel. '...Bitch.'
'What!'
'I- I stop looking at me like... I was calling myself a bitch.'
Blaine shook his head. 'But why would you do that?' he asked. 'Rachel, do you dislike yourself so much that you resort to gendered insults... against yourself?'
'I-- don't,' she stammered, then sat up straight. 'Yeah! I do . That's the kind of badbutt I am.'
'Badbutt?'
'I don't like saying ass.'
'Okay,' said Blaine. 'I vote we all stop talking now.'
‘Never mind, we’re near.’ Quinn could feel the grin splitting her face. ‘Guys! It’s just the top of that hill!’
‘Round of applause for the driver!’ Rachel yelled. ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow!’
Quinn rolled her eyes as Blaine joined in with gusto. Just this one small step and she’d be with sane, competent people that she didn’t want to cover in ketchup and throw into the path of zombies.
‘Wait,’ Blaine broke off in the middle of his scat solo. ‘What was that?’
Quinn frowned, hearing the spluttering emanating from the engine. ‘Oh! Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare! Not when we are so close!’ She gasped in horror as the engine finally blew and the car juddered to a halt.
For a moment the three sat in silence, staring forward in disbelief.
‘We are never going to get there!’ Rachel cried.
‘Just calm down, okay.’ Quinn pulled at the door and stepped out. ‘Come on, there’s no zombies around.’ The others quickly joined her outside of the car, looking around cautiously.
‘Okay, okay.’ Blaine cupped his chin in thought. ‘We’ve got guns. We have an axe. We just need to get to the top of that hill.’
‘We’ll be exposed, but yeah, this area looks pretty clear. We’ll have to move fast, though.’ Quinn cupped her rifle and looked up at the hill. They could do this.
‘Oh! Look at that cute bird!’ Rachel clapped her hands over her mouth in delight. ‘It must have got out of its cage!’
Turning, Blaine and Quinn followed the source of her gaze. Settled on the roof of the BMW was a small, yellow canary.
‘That’s-‘ Blaine tilted his head approaching it with a outstretched hand. ‘That’s so odd! He looks like one that the Warblers used to own.’
‘Yes,’ Quinn nodded. ‘Because birds are all so unique looking from each other.’
‘Hey, little fella! Hey.’ Blaine’s fingers were nearly upon the bird’s feathers now. ‘Are you lost? Aw, you-hey!’ He snatched back his hand in horror. ‘It tried to bite me!’
Rachel frowned. ‘With no teeth?’
‘Fine! Beak me then!’ Blaine was staring at it curiously now. ‘What’s wrong with it? It looks-off or something?’ The bird was staring impassively back, one eye pressed shut and bald patches all over its breast. Blaine felt a shiver trace his spine tenderly.
‘Never mind him, what’s that?’ Rachel was staring up at the sky, at a black mass that was forming above them.
‘What is that?’ Quinn wondered out loud.
‘Oh, my God,’ Blaine whispered. ‘Guys, look at its chest.’
‘What about it?’ Rachel leaned over, her cheek near his in her study.
‘It’s not moving,’ Blaine answered. ‘It’s not breathing.’
‘Rachel, Blaine?’ Quinn was moving backwards now, eyes still glued to the sky. ‘Run!’
‘Run? But-‘ Blaine glanced up. ‘Oh, my God!’
‘Run! Run!’ Quinn turned on her heel and began to make for the hill, swinging her rifle above her.
‘Are those birds?’ Rachel shrieked. ‘Those are birds! They're dive bombing us!’
‘This is just like something from Hitchcock!’ Quinn shouted, as her rifle butt smacked a bird in its beak.
You’re right!’ Blaine gasped. ‘This is totally Psycho!’ He kicked a bird in the face as it went for his shins. 'Oh, gosh. Oh, I'm so sorry!'
'That was a lark sparrow!' howled Rachel, tears springing to her eyes.
'All birds are equal!' said Blaine.
'They're endangered! How could you?' she gasped, hammering at his chest as they ran.
'It was going for my shins,' said Blaine. 'I'm sorry! I'm sorry!'
'Apologise to PETA!' She stopped mid-tirade when another lark sparrow dived for her nose. 'Aargh!' she cried, punching it in the head.
'See?' said Blaine, darting away from her.
'Punk-butt birds!' she roared at them, diving for cover.
Quinn dropped to her knees as they reached the top of the hill. ‘They’ve...they’ve stopped.’
‘I think it was the effort. Most of them hit the ground.’ Blaine wiped at the blade of his axe with a wince. ‘This was the worst part of the day.'
'Not the zombies?' smiled Quinn.
'Close second.' He squinted at the gates. 'Oh, guys. How are we going to get in?'
'We have an axe,' said Rachel.
'And then we'll have a hole for the zombies to get in,' muttered Quinn. 'No, we need to--'
'Dipshits! Over here!'
'Puck!' gasped Rachel gratefully.
'I've never been so glad to hear his boyish abuse,' said Quinn. They broke into a run in the direction of his voice, relieved to see him with Kurt and Finn.
‘Blaine!’ Kurt ran forward, pressing his fingers through the chain link fence. ‘Oh, I was so worried! I was so afraid that-Blaine?’ Kurt gritted his teeth. ‘Do you think that you could stop drooling over Puck’s bicep for one moment?’
Puck smiled slowly, and gave a flex.
'Stop pinching my fingers!' Blaine scolded Kurt.
'Stop pinching my man!' hissed Kurt at Puck.
‘Finn! Finn! My very own Finn!’ Rachel sobbed, planting her face against the fence. ‘I feel like East Berlin!’ She stepped back from the fence. ‘That was a stunning lyric! I need to write that down.’
‘Rachel, you look... You look-‘ Finn’s eyes travelled up and down her body in awe. ‘Mailman.’ He settled on. ‘Definitely mailman.’
‘Yeah,’ Puck agreed. ‘That dress is smoking on you!’
Kurt nodded. ‘I have to agree. The gentle colour complements and accentuates your skin and bone structure, while the style is just perfect for showing off your figure.’ He smiled. ‘It’s zombie apocalypse chic!’
‘Are you all blind!’ Blaine snapped. ‘It has a tapered trim!’
‘As charming as this all is,’ Quinn interrupted. ‘Can you let us in?’
Puck shook his head sadly. ‘Can’t. You could be zombies.’
‘What?’ Quinn snapped. ‘You can see us, Puck! And we are talking to you!’
Puck nodded as if considering. ‘Yeah, but what if you're zombie spies?’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Quinn stamped her foot. She had not fought her way all the way here for this. ‘Just open the gate! Finn!’ she appealed. ‘Please!’
‘You, er, might be bitten,’ Finn said. ‘You should maybe, uhm, take your clothes off.’
‘Brilliant!’ Puck high fived him. ‘Make with the stripping.’
‘Are you stupid? We are not-put your sweater back on, Blaine!’ Quinn cocked the rifle. ‘Let us in, Puck.’
‘I’ve got it!’ Puck grinned. ‘I know how to see, if you’re like cool or not.’ He patted smugly at the red shirt round his shoulders. 'You're in a desert, walking along in the sand, when all of a sudden you look down...'
Rachel straightened up. An acting exercise! She so had this. ‘And I've forgotten my sunscreen! ‘
Blaine gasped. ‘Quelle horreur!’
Puck shook his head, irritation evident in his face. ‘No, you look down and see a tortoise. It's crawling toward you... ‘
‘Get it away, get it away!’ Rachel began to jump up and down, flapping at the air.
Blaine raised his hand. ‘Is it a zombie tortoise? I feel that would be important.’
‘What the fuck?’ Puck bit his fist and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Kurt, open the damn gate.’
Kurt scampered to obey, pulling the gate open for their friends and then snapping it shut quickly. Thankfully, no zombies had found this entrance yet.
'Where'd you get the gun?' asked Quinn.
Finn held it up proudly. 'We found it on the security guard. He'd been gnawed to death by some zombie animal or something. We, uh, hope.'
‘Nice axe, bro!’ Puck said, winking at Blaine again. ‘Serious weaponry.’
Kurt was seething. Was Blaine seriously stroking a phallic instrument while giggling coquettishly?
'Puck, I warned you before!'
'Dude, relax -- put the axe down!'
Rachel shook her head as she watched the boys bickering. 'Oh, Finn,' she sighed. 'It must be so hard to see the zombie apocalypse mired in immaturity like this. How I have fought today! How many zombies have I taken down--'
'None,' said Quinn.
'I punched one!'
'You punched a bird.'
'Rachel!' gasped Finn. 'That's horrible.'
'It was a zombie bird,' she said, annoyed.
'By God,' whispered Finn. 'I was right.'
'Anyway, I hope you're proud of me, Finn Hudson. I was so bad today...'
'I can bet,' said Finn, nodding sympathetically. 'Did Quinn have to keep rescuing you?'
'Yes,' said Quinn.
'I disagree!' said Rachel, stamping her foot. 'I could take down any zombie! I'd shoot them right between the eyes!' She considered. 'That is where we should shoot them, right?'
Quinn folded her arms. 'Yes. But you'd never do it.'
'I would!' said Rachel,
'Rachel,' said Finn. 'I don't know what the problem is. I'm not judging you but you're not a tough guy. You've never even held a gun, let alone fired one.'
'We'll see about that, Finn Hudson!'
So saying, she snatched the gun from Finn and held it up in the air.
'Rachel, don't!' gasped Quinn, grabbing at her arm.
'Stand back, Quinn. I will not be beaten by you!' she cried.
She raised the gun skyward and fired a single shot into the air. The explosion echoed across the woodland, sending birds scattering and resonating across the town.
'Way to go!' snarled Quinn, snatching the gun from her and grabbing her hair. They launched into a fight while Kurt and Blaine tried to pry them from each other and Puck smirked in delight.
'Wait,' whispered Blaine. 'What's that noise?'
They stopped, listening. The sound of feet -- many, many feet -- came thumping closer and closer. They watched in horror as hundreds of vicious, angry, murderous undead staggered towards the compound, a crushing force of people intent upon killing them.
'Guys,' said Puck. 'I think I need the bathroom.'
Chapter 4
Author: mothergoddamn & rebness
Pairing/characters: Blaine/Kurt, Rachel/Finn, Puck and Quinn.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Glee kids have a new challenge on the horizon. A shuffling, angry, zombie challenge.
Previous:
1/ 2
They Only Want You For Your Brains
Chapter 3
Ting.
'Stop it.'
Ting.
'Stop it.'
Ting.
'Stop it already!' snapped Kurt.
Puck continued to circle him, flicking the bell on his bike. 'The shark's coming to get you, Kurt. It's circling closer.'
'You're supposed to be helping!'
'It's going to eat you, Kurt.'
'It's a bike,' he retorted. 'And also, there are zombies waiting to do that to both of us.'
'I'm bored of zombies,' said Puck. He rode over to Finn, who was still struggling to unlock the entrance gates at the tank compound. 'I thought you were good at this stuff.'
'I never said that! I just said I saw it on a TV show about survival once,' said Finn. 'It's not my fault. It's the lock.' He sat back, frustrated. 'I think we should just go around the front and see if we can get in that way.'
'There could be zombies out front!' protested Kurt.
'Look,' said Finn. 'The sooner we get in, the sooner we can get safe and the sooner we can begin Fuckurt.'
'I wish you wouldn't put so much emphasis upon the first syllable,' said Kurt crossly.
'--And then you two can sit back and do your thing while I get down repopulating.'
Puck frowned. 'Wait. I'm not gay.'
'No, but the whole vasectomy thing--'
'That was a goddamn lie!' exploded Puck.
Kurt grabbed his arm. 'Please, be quiet! The zombies!'
Puck shook him off. 'You selfish fuck, Finn! I won't have you spreading lies about me, I won't!'
'But you said it! How was I supposed to know!'
'All this time,' snarled Puck. 'All this time and talk about Fuckurt and you've just been prepared to make me one of your goddamn stooges! I can't believe this.'
Kurt shrugged. 'He didn't mean it like that. He means we'll be in important positions, okay?' He turned to Finn. 'Right?' he said severely.
'S-sure,' Finn stammered. 'I was thinking Puck could be head of security and you could be like a member of the harem. Not that I'd do you,' he said quickly. 'Just because we're brothers and also because I'm not gay. You could do like the sewing and cooking for us.'
'You want me as the cook!' shrieked Kurt.
'I... I like your pasta bake,' he muttered.
Puck jumped onto his bike. 'Right, fuck you! Kurt, hop on. We'll go and find our own way because Purt will be way more awesome than your pansy sewing circle.' He nodded at Kurt. 'If you want a pansy sewing circle, though, that's totally cool in Purt.'
Kurt tossed his nose in the air and brought his arms and Puck. 'You don't even flinch,' he said, shooting daggers at Finn.
'Wait, guys!' said Finn, jumping up. 'Wait!' But Puck and Kurt were already gone. 'Gah!' he shouted. 'I can't cook, Kurt! I can't cook!'
*
'He just does so many things that are so wrong,' said Kurt. 'He's always "Kurt, does this spot look like cancer? Will you squeeze it and check?" and "Kurt, I noticed you stopped putting cinnamon in my hot milk. Can you tell me why?" and he's just so demanding and he drives me up the wall. I hate him!'
'And he smells,' said Puck.
'I gave him that aftershave,' said Kurt, offended.
They rode on in silence for a while longer, skirting around the back roads towards main street. 'Just to warn you, I think there'll be like tonnes of zombies on the main drag or something,' said Puck.
'I'm sure it's not that ba-- oh my God! Oh my God!' He clamped his hands over his mouth in horror. As they crested the hill, Puck came to a halt. There were hundreds-- hundreds! -- of the rotting undead staggering about. There was no way they'd get through alive.
'Kurt.'
He tried to calm his breathing. 'Y-yes?' he whispered.
'I need your shirt.'
'Why?'
'Less questions, more unbuttoning!'
Kurt paused. 'Are you going to assault me?'
'I am so offended right now, I should punch you in the kidneys,' said Puck. 'Will you just give me your damned shirt!'
He glared at Kurt as the other boy unbuttoned his top, flexing his fingers to indicate he should hand it over. 'Okay,' he muttered, tying the shirt around his neck. 'We're ready.'
Kurt raised an eyebrow. 'What are we ready for, exactly?'
'We're ready to kick zombie ass!'
'Because you have my shirt around your neck?'
'It's a cape, Kurt.'
Kurt closed his eyes, counted to ten. It didn't help. He opened them and gave his best Meatloaf stare at Puck, before reaching forward and grabbing him by the shirt tied around his neck. 'Listen here, Puckerman,' he hissed. 'We are going back to Finn and we are going to find a way in and I will not die for your idiotic superhero ideals today. Do you understand?'
Puck froze, considering. 'All right, little dude,' he muttered. 'No need to go all psycho on me.' He extricated himself from Kurt's grasp and pointed at a zombie slowly winding its way up the hill to them.
'Look at that one. She's got her boobs out.' He smiled at Kurt. 'Total ZILF.'
*
Fine. Whatever. Finn didn’t need them. He was happy by himself, and totally capable. See if he’d let them into Fuckurt now. In fact, he'd just rename it Finland and-- oh, that name sounded familiar. He'd have to check with Rachel or someone that it wasn't copyrighted or something.
Pedaling leisurely back and forth in front of the compound, Finn closed his eyes, leaning his body back and letting the air caress his face. Man, this was like that kick ass movie that he had seen one night. How had that ended again? He stretched out his arms like a cross and continued to make his way along the road.
He felt free, he felt strong. He felt like the leader he was. In fact-- oh, fuck.
Feeling the wheel jar something hard, he was flung through the air ass over head, hitting the ground hard. Pain flared across his shoulders and back.
What the hell had he hit? He sat up with a groan, seeing a blond boy with his back to him, standing up stiffly.
‘Dude? You okay?’
The figure froze at Finn’s call, turning slowly on his heel to face him.
Sam Evans! Finn realised. This was awesome, if there was one person in the world who recognised Finn for the dashing hero-wanderer he was, then it was Sam Evans.
‘Wow! Am I glad to see you. Here help me up. We found this totally cool tank place. It was all my idea. And then we are going to form a repopulation commune called Finla-‘
Finn’s voice stuttered to a stop as Sam finally turned round to face him.
Oh, shit.
‘What-what’s that on your face, man?’ Finn asked weakly.
PLOP.
Finn glanced sadly at the ground. ‘Oh. It was your jaw.’ He held up his hands as Sam advanced on him. ‘Listen, dude. I am totally sorry about stealing your girlfriend and praying for you to get hurt in football and that time I told Puck you only had one testicle. I didn’t, like, mean any of it!’ Finn, in his mind, was climbing to his feet, running for his bike and getting the hell out of here, but Finn in reality was frozen to the floor as Sam shuffled towards him. ‘Oh, dude. Please don’t eat my face! Please don’t eat my face!’
Finn squeezed his eyes shut as Sam leant over him, his nose pushing into the crown of his head. Oh, God. This was it. This was it. How can you even eat without a jaw? Oh, God, Sam was going to open his head like a can opener.
‘Be gone, foul fuck face!’ someone yelled, following it up with a loud thwack. Finn’s eyes flew open to find Puck standing over a prone Sam, baseball bat in hand, and red cape blowing majestically in the breeze.
‘Puck,’ Finn breathed in reverence. ‘You came back?’
Puck sniffed and squinted into the sky. ‘Heard a woman screaming, that’s all. Didn’t realise it was you.’ He shrugged. ‘Plus Kurt made me.’
A broad smile broke out across Finn's face. 'Kurt, I owe you. Big time.'
'But dude,' said Puck. 'How gay are you? Cinnamon in your milk? Milk, even?' He laughed. 'Do you go to bed with a wittle teddy bear, Finn?'
Finn's face was rapidly going a deep shade of crimson. Kurt hastily turned to the gate, fiddling with the lock. 'Let's forget everything!' he squeaked. 'We need to get in and--'
KA-THUNK.
He shrank back as, with one hefty blow from the baseball bat, Finn smashed the lock free.
'Hulk mad,' said Puck. 'Hulk smash.'
'Let's just get inside,' snarled Finn, shoving both of them hard before closing the gate firmly behind him.
'Dude,' said Puck to Kurt, 'remember cinnamon. It's his power word.'
*
‘Breathe into this paper bag, Blaine!’ Quinn insisted, her palm rubbing calming circles against his back.
‘Permanent... record... oh, my God,’ Blaine gasped. ‘Oh, my God!’
‘That punk bitch still whining?’ Rachel tossed out, rubbing at her nose in an undignified manner. ‘Sheeet. ‘
‘I can’t go to prison, Quinn!’ Blaine removed the bag from his mouth and pointed at himself. ‘I mean, look at this face!’
‘Swap your sweet hide for a carton of cigarettes and a copy of Hustler.’
‘Rachel! Will you stop it!’ Quinn snapped. She rested a hand on Blaine’s knee. ‘Look, we had to take this car. We had to, Blaine. And if this whole zombie thing gets straightened out then we’ll just explain. It’s okay, Blaine. Everything will be okay.’
He looked towards her gratefully: eyes wet and chin wobbling bravely. After a moment, he gave a nod and smiled shakily.
‘Bitch gonna get shanked fo’ sure.’ Rachel paused. ‘Then one of them is going to get this spoon and-‘
‘Rachel!’
If Quinn had realised just how method Rachel was going to go, she never would have allowed her to hotwire the BMW. Apparently, she had starred in an elementary production of West Side Story as a Jet and taken her research a bit too far.
‘Oh, girl! You better check yourself ‘fo you wreck yourself.’
‘Don’t spit in the car, that is disgusting!’ Quinn turned back to Blaine. ‘Ignore her, come on. Just keep driving. We are nearly there now.’
‘Yeah, drive, bitch.’
‘Rachel! Where--- is that a shiv?’
‘I made it out of my comb!’ Rachel smiled proudly, eyes widening as she realised her slip. ‘Nuts to you!’
'Oh, shut up!' said Quinn. 'I understand, it's a dorky Rachel coping mechanism. You can break character for five minutes, can't you? Before I flatten you?'
‘What?’ Rachel shrugged. ‘You can’t just break character, Quinn. Marlon Brando used to say-‘
'He died from eating cake.'
'Did he?' asked Blaine.
'No, but my point stands.'
'What's your point?' asked Rachel darkly. 'Er, please?' she amended on seeing Quinn's angry gaze.
Blaine shrugged. ‘I don’t think you were doing a faithful version of Maria and Tony’s story, if I’m honest, Rachel.’
‘I updated it for the times, Blaine! Like Rent from La Boheme. Or She’s All That from My Fair Lady.’
‘Pygmalion,’ Quinn interjected.
Blaine’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was that a crack about my height?’'
'It's a myth!' said Quinn. 'It's a classic story--'
'As is My Fair Lady,' sniffed Rachel.
'They're the same story!' hissed Quinn. 'Sort of.'
'Get out of here!' said Rachel. '...Bitch.'
'What!'
'I- I stop looking at me like... I was calling myself a bitch.'
Blaine shook his head. 'But why would you do that?' he asked. 'Rachel, do you dislike yourself so much that you resort to gendered insults... against yourself?'
'I-- don't,' she stammered, then sat up straight. 'Yeah! I do . That's the kind of badbutt I am.'
'Badbutt?'
'I don't like saying ass.'
'Okay,' said Blaine. 'I vote we all stop talking now.'
‘Never mind, we’re near.’ Quinn could feel the grin splitting her face. ‘Guys! It’s just the top of that hill!’
‘Round of applause for the driver!’ Rachel yelled. ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow!’
Quinn rolled her eyes as Blaine joined in with gusto. Just this one small step and she’d be with sane, competent people that she didn’t want to cover in ketchup and throw into the path of zombies.
‘Wait,’ Blaine broke off in the middle of his scat solo. ‘What was that?’
Quinn frowned, hearing the spluttering emanating from the engine. ‘Oh! Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare! Not when we are so close!’ She gasped in horror as the engine finally blew and the car juddered to a halt.
For a moment the three sat in silence, staring forward in disbelief.
‘We are never going to get there!’ Rachel cried.
‘Just calm down, okay.’ Quinn pulled at the door and stepped out. ‘Come on, there’s no zombies around.’ The others quickly joined her outside of the car, looking around cautiously.
‘Okay, okay.’ Blaine cupped his chin in thought. ‘We’ve got guns. We have an axe. We just need to get to the top of that hill.’
‘We’ll be exposed, but yeah, this area looks pretty clear. We’ll have to move fast, though.’ Quinn cupped her rifle and looked up at the hill. They could do this.
‘Oh! Look at that cute bird!’ Rachel clapped her hands over her mouth in delight. ‘It must have got out of its cage!’
Turning, Blaine and Quinn followed the source of her gaze. Settled on the roof of the BMW was a small, yellow canary.
‘That’s-‘ Blaine tilted his head approaching it with a outstretched hand. ‘That’s so odd! He looks like one that the Warblers used to own.’
‘Yes,’ Quinn nodded. ‘Because birds are all so unique looking from each other.’
‘Hey, little fella! Hey.’ Blaine’s fingers were nearly upon the bird’s feathers now. ‘Are you lost? Aw, you-hey!’ He snatched back his hand in horror. ‘It tried to bite me!’
Rachel frowned. ‘With no teeth?’
‘Fine! Beak me then!’ Blaine was staring at it curiously now. ‘What’s wrong with it? It looks-off or something?’ The bird was staring impassively back, one eye pressed shut and bald patches all over its breast. Blaine felt a shiver trace his spine tenderly.
‘Never mind him, what’s that?’ Rachel was staring up at the sky, at a black mass that was forming above them.
‘What is that?’ Quinn wondered out loud.
‘Oh, my God,’ Blaine whispered. ‘Guys, look at its chest.’
‘What about it?’ Rachel leaned over, her cheek near his in her study.
‘It’s not moving,’ Blaine answered. ‘It’s not breathing.’
‘Rachel, Blaine?’ Quinn was moving backwards now, eyes still glued to the sky. ‘Run!’
‘Run? But-‘ Blaine glanced up. ‘Oh, my God!’
‘Run! Run!’ Quinn turned on her heel and began to make for the hill, swinging her rifle above her.
‘Are those birds?’ Rachel shrieked. ‘Those are birds! They're dive bombing us!’
‘This is just like something from Hitchcock!’ Quinn shouted, as her rifle butt smacked a bird in its beak.
You’re right!’ Blaine gasped. ‘This is totally Psycho!’ He kicked a bird in the face as it went for his shins. 'Oh, gosh. Oh, I'm so sorry!'
'That was a lark sparrow!' howled Rachel, tears springing to her eyes.
'All birds are equal!' said Blaine.
'They're endangered! How could you?' she gasped, hammering at his chest as they ran.
'It was going for my shins,' said Blaine. 'I'm sorry! I'm sorry!'
'Apologise to PETA!' She stopped mid-tirade when another lark sparrow dived for her nose. 'Aargh!' she cried, punching it in the head.
'See?' said Blaine, darting away from her.
'Punk-butt birds!' she roared at them, diving for cover.
Quinn dropped to her knees as they reached the top of the hill. ‘They’ve...they’ve stopped.’
‘I think it was the effort. Most of them hit the ground.’ Blaine wiped at the blade of his axe with a wince. ‘This was the worst part of the day.'
'Not the zombies?' smiled Quinn.
'Close second.' He squinted at the gates. 'Oh, guys. How are we going to get in?'
'We have an axe,' said Rachel.
'And then we'll have a hole for the zombies to get in,' muttered Quinn. 'No, we need to--'
'Dipshits! Over here!'
'Puck!' gasped Rachel gratefully.
'I've never been so glad to hear his boyish abuse,' said Quinn. They broke into a run in the direction of his voice, relieved to see him with Kurt and Finn.
‘Blaine!’ Kurt ran forward, pressing his fingers through the chain link fence. ‘Oh, I was so worried! I was so afraid that-Blaine?’ Kurt gritted his teeth. ‘Do you think that you could stop drooling over Puck’s bicep for one moment?’
Puck smiled slowly, and gave a flex.
'Stop pinching my fingers!' Blaine scolded Kurt.
'Stop pinching my man!' hissed Kurt at Puck.
‘Finn! Finn! My very own Finn!’ Rachel sobbed, planting her face against the fence. ‘I feel like East Berlin!’ She stepped back from the fence. ‘That was a stunning lyric! I need to write that down.’
‘Rachel, you look... You look-‘ Finn’s eyes travelled up and down her body in awe. ‘Mailman.’ He settled on. ‘Definitely mailman.’
‘Yeah,’ Puck agreed. ‘That dress is smoking on you!’
Kurt nodded. ‘I have to agree. The gentle colour complements and accentuates your skin and bone structure, while the style is just perfect for showing off your figure.’ He smiled. ‘It’s zombie apocalypse chic!’
‘Are you all blind!’ Blaine snapped. ‘It has a tapered trim!’
‘As charming as this all is,’ Quinn interrupted. ‘Can you let us in?’
Puck shook his head sadly. ‘Can’t. You could be zombies.’
‘What?’ Quinn snapped. ‘You can see us, Puck! And we are talking to you!’
Puck nodded as if considering. ‘Yeah, but what if you're zombie spies?’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Quinn stamped her foot. She had not fought her way all the way here for this. ‘Just open the gate! Finn!’ she appealed. ‘Please!’
‘You, er, might be bitten,’ Finn said. ‘You should maybe, uhm, take your clothes off.’
‘Brilliant!’ Puck high fived him. ‘Make with the stripping.’
‘Are you stupid? We are not-put your sweater back on, Blaine!’ Quinn cocked the rifle. ‘Let us in, Puck.’
‘I’ve got it!’ Puck grinned. ‘I know how to see, if you’re like cool or not.’ He patted smugly at the red shirt round his shoulders. 'You're in a desert, walking along in the sand, when all of a sudden you look down...'
Rachel straightened up. An acting exercise! She so had this. ‘And I've forgotten my sunscreen! ‘
Blaine gasped. ‘Quelle horreur!’
Puck shook his head, irritation evident in his face. ‘No, you look down and see a tortoise. It's crawling toward you... ‘
‘Get it away, get it away!’ Rachel began to jump up and down, flapping at the air.
Blaine raised his hand. ‘Is it a zombie tortoise? I feel that would be important.’
‘What the fuck?’ Puck bit his fist and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Kurt, open the damn gate.’
Kurt scampered to obey, pulling the gate open for their friends and then snapping it shut quickly. Thankfully, no zombies had found this entrance yet.
'Where'd you get the gun?' asked Quinn.
Finn held it up proudly. 'We found it on the security guard. He'd been gnawed to death by some zombie animal or something. We, uh, hope.'
‘Nice axe, bro!’ Puck said, winking at Blaine again. ‘Serious weaponry.’
Kurt was seething. Was Blaine seriously stroking a phallic instrument while giggling coquettishly?
'Puck, I warned you before!'
'Dude, relax -- put the axe down!'
Rachel shook her head as she watched the boys bickering. 'Oh, Finn,' she sighed. 'It must be so hard to see the zombie apocalypse mired in immaturity like this. How I have fought today! How many zombies have I taken down--'
'None,' said Quinn.
'I punched one!'
'You punched a bird.'
'Rachel!' gasped Finn. 'That's horrible.'
'It was a zombie bird,' she said, annoyed.
'By God,' whispered Finn. 'I was right.'
'Anyway, I hope you're proud of me, Finn Hudson. I was so bad today...'
'I can bet,' said Finn, nodding sympathetically. 'Did Quinn have to keep rescuing you?'
'Yes,' said Quinn.
'I disagree!' said Rachel, stamping her foot. 'I could take down any zombie! I'd shoot them right between the eyes!' She considered. 'That is where we should shoot them, right?'
Quinn folded her arms. 'Yes. But you'd never do it.'
'I would!' said Rachel,
'Rachel,' said Finn. 'I don't know what the problem is. I'm not judging you but you're not a tough guy. You've never even held a gun, let alone fired one.'
'We'll see about that, Finn Hudson!'
So saying, she snatched the gun from Finn and held it up in the air.
'Rachel, don't!' gasped Quinn, grabbing at her arm.
'Stand back, Quinn. I will not be beaten by you!' she cried.
She raised the gun skyward and fired a single shot into the air. The explosion echoed across the woodland, sending birds scattering and resonating across the town.
'Way to go!' snarled Quinn, snatching the gun from her and grabbing her hair. They launched into a fight while Kurt and Blaine tried to pry them from each other and Puck smirked in delight.
'Wait,' whispered Blaine. 'What's that noise?'
They stopped, listening. The sound of feet -- many, many feet -- came thumping closer and closer. They watched in horror as hundreds of vicious, angry, murderous undead staggered towards the compound, a crushing force of people intent upon killing them.
'Guys,' said Puck. 'I think I need the bathroom.'
Chapter 4